


Before We Get Lost

by treaddelicately



Series: Before We Get Lost [1]
Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Clint Barton Needs a Hug, Clint Barton-centric, Darcy Lewis-centric, Deaf Clint Barton, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Meeting the Parents, Minor Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov, Minor Wanda Maximoff/Bucky Barnes, POV Alternating, POV Clint Barton, POV Darcy Lewis, Pining, Post-Break Up, Road Trips, well a very short awkward road trip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:14:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treaddelicately/pseuds/treaddelicately
Summary: Clint and Darcy tried the whole dating thing, with disastrous results that neither of them have quite recovered from. Maybe a road trip, two weeks with Darcy’s family, and a lot of time in close quarters is all they need to learn from their mistakes.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Darcy Lewis
Series: Before We Get Lost [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717282
Comments: 314
Kudos: 247





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout and all the hugs to my two betas, Dresupi and BoudicaMuse. They helped me shape this from a oneshot into my first multichapter fic, listened to my flailing about it over the past two weeks, and worked through all of my nonsense to get this posted. You guys are the real MVPs.
> 
> You can probably tell by the graphic my lovely friend BoudicaMuse made below, but the Clint you’ll find here is essentially comics!Clint thrown into the MCU. You’re free to picture him any way you like, but man, Charlie Hunnam just really fits the bill.

  
Coming out at all had been his first mistake. Well, maybe not the first, but the first for this particular set of circumstances. The bar was loud, which Clint could fix by just turning his aids down, but that wouldn’t do anything for the smell.

Fuck Natasha, honestly. Fuck her for offering to come out with him and then leaving twenty minutes into their night out so she could go get railed into next week by a super-soldier. For that matter, fuck Steve Rogers for sending her a booty call text. Who even taught that guy how to text, anyway?

Clint knew the answer to that. Back a few months ago, Darcy used to run what she called Pop Culture Nights. She taught Thor and Steve and Barnes how to use modern technology and showed them all her favorite movies. There had been a lot of laughter about it at first, but eventually the whole team had joined in. It became a weekly tradition to order take out and do movies in one of the common areas. They’d worked their way through most of the Disney catalogue before things had gone sour.

His fault. It was always his fault.

Clint took another pull from his lukewarm beer and mentally urged himself to hurry it up. _Finish the beer, Barton, then you can go home_. He was already making plans to grab a pizza for him and Lucky on the walk back when the scent hit him.

Cutting through the stale beer and faint B.O. smell was bergamot. Fucking bergamot. He’d woken up so many mornings to that smell from Darcy’s diffuser on her nightstand. Even when they’d stayed at his place, the scent stayed on her clothes and hair. It was heavy and citrusy and made his chest tight.

Right on cue, just as he composed his face into something that maybe looked only half heartbroken, her voice sounded off to his right.

“That’s so cool!”

Clint’s hand tightened on his beer bottle. He wasn’t going to look over there. He wasn’t.

Except he couldn’t stop himself. He could be subtle, right? There was no reason for Darcy to even know he was sitting here. Clint tilted his head down and used the cover of his hair falling in his eyes to look down the bar.

Darcy leaned against it three stools down from him. Her hair was down and covering her shoulders, which explained the bergamot smell. It always clung to her hair. She had on a tight blue shirt with a deep v-neck and her lips were stained their usual dark red. There was only one person sitting on the stools between them, so Clint had a clear view of her jeans, too, and the guy with his hand pressed to her hip.

He was… alright looking, in an objective ‘I’m A Straight Guy Looking At My Ex-Girlfriend’s New Boyfriend’ kind of way. The bridge of his nose was flat and the tip was crooked, like that one actor with the annoying voice. Like he’d been punched one too many times. Which, yeah, kinda checked out because Clint wanted to punch him.

“Right? I mean, we’ve got like, a hundred thousand streams on Spotify, so I’d say we’re about to blow up. Hey, bartender!”

“He looks a little busy right now. We can wait, it’s not a big deal,” Darcy said. The first part was almost too quiet to make out, but Clint turned his aids back up to hear the rest.

He should look away. She’d always been perceptive; she was bound to see him soon and he would just end up ruining one more thing for her. He started to count down, giving himself five more seconds to look at her.

Four, three, two...

The guy, who had his hand entirely too close to Darcy’s ass, snorted. “Fuck that. I’m a paying customer, he can come over here and serve us. Yo, bartender!” He waved his arm until the bartender walked over with a scowl. “My girl here needs a mojito and I’ll take a Miller Lite.”

Darcy didn't say anything but Clint knew her well enough to know what she was thinking. He didn't have to see her to know how her eyes would be tight at the corners, how her smile would be threaded through with annoyance.

She didn’t want a damn mojito. She wanted a Black Russian. Actually, what she _really_ wanted was a White Russian, but she’s mildly lactose intolerant so if she drinks it, she’ll complain of a stomachache the entire night. So she’ll settle for the Black Russian.

Why was she letting this guy order her drink for her? If he’d ever done that, he’d have been treated to a thirty-minute rant about the patriarchy for his trouble.

He tried to tune them out. _Finish your beer, Clint. Go home to your dog, Clint._

Clint counted the ceiling tiles while he tipped his beer back to finish it. It was warm and gross but at least he could go home now without worrying about wasting a perfectly good beer.

Drink finished and mission accomplished, Clint grabbed his jacket and headed for the door. He made it about four steps before the commotion started.

“Hey, man, what the fuck? You spilled on my girl!”

_Keep walking, Clint. It’s not your business, Clint._

“Darren, it’s fine. I just need some napkins.” Darcy’s voice rang louder than the others, but maybe that was because Clint was listening for it.

“No, fuck that! This guy spilled his drink on you!”

There were a few more _fuck you, mans_ and slurred obscenities exchanged in the time it took for Clint to turn around and walk back to the bar. By that point, Darcy’s date and the bar patron he was arguing with had started shoving each other.

Fuck. This was going to get him punched, wasn’t it? He didn’t have to break up the fight, though. He could take the less punchy, more emotionally painful route.

Clint wedged his way into the growing crowd and wrapped his fingers around Darcy’s upper arm. “Hey, come on.”

When she looked at him, her expression made it perfectly clear that she wasn’t in any way surprised to see him. She didn’t hit him, though, she just let him drag her to a less crowded part of the bar where there wasn’t a fistfight threatening to break out.

“What the hell, Clint?” Darcy glared at him when they stopped near the busted jukebox.

He let go of her arm and shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I just, uh… it was getting heated. I just wanted to get you outta there.” He knew it was the wrong choice of words the minute they left his mouth.

She stared at him. Didn’t say anything, just stared. Somehow that was worse than the punch he’d expected or the shouting he was pretty sure he’d earned.

Darcy always did that to him. She had this way of looking at him like he had the potential to be something great, but he fell short every damn time.

She’d looked at him like that the day she’d collected her toothbrush and other shit out of his apartment, too. They hadn’t lived together, not really, but his bathroom counter still felt empty without all her hair clips laying around.

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Darcy crossed her arms, her tone clipped. Her shirt was wet all down the front and her forearms were pushing her boobs up. “You’re always such a hero except for when it really counts.”

“You know what? Forget it.” Clint exhaled, irritated. Why had he even bothered? Her words had hit their mark dead center. Hurt bloomed in his chest and was followed with a nice healthy dose of guilt. “Next time I’ll just leave you to the drunk assholes.”

Darcy’s lips parted and she looked like she was about to really lay into him. Clint straightened, bracing for impact.

“Did you ever think that maybe _you’re_ the drunk asshole?”

Yeah, he was. He knew that. That was the entire reason they’d ended up in this mess. Why she was out with some guy with a broken nose who liked to talk about his shitty band instead of curled up on his busted couch watching Dog Cops with him and Lucky.

Clint sighed. “Do you need a new shirt?”

“It’s fine. I’m just going to go home. I don’t really feel like being out now anyway.”

“What about your…?” He couldn’t make himself say the word boyfriend.

Darcy snorted and barely spared a glance for the full-on brawl that had erupted at the bar. “Darren? Yeah, no. One of Jane’s lab assistants set me up with him. We’re not _dating_ , it was just a date, and I really don’t have to explain any of this to you.”

“I was just making sure I didn’t need to go save that idiot from getting his nose broken. Again.” Clint frowned. “Is it just me or does he look like-”

“Owen Wilson, yeah.” Darcy waved her hand dismissively. “If he wants to defend my honor or whatever, more power to him. I’m going home.”

Home for her meant Avengers Tower. He knew she was staying there while Jane consulted with Banner for some kind of science-y shit. Her current residence there was one of many reasons why Clint found himself avoiding it like the plague.

But still. Why was she in Bed-Stuy, anyway? It wasn’t like this bar was the most happenin’ place in all of New York. Couldn’t her date have at least stuck to Manhattan so they could have avoided this entire mess?

Not that it mattered. It was a mess now, and he was used to messes. Maybe he was shit at preventing them but he could at least clean them up after the fact.

“Should I–D’you want me to get you a cab?” Darcy raised her eyebrows at him and he deflated, feeling as stupid as he sounded. “I guess you don’t need me for that.”

“No, I don’t need you.”

There was something there, briefly. Her expression softened at the edges and he saw her arms loosen a fraction. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. Clint was still so, so utterly fucked over her, but he wasn’t the only one. She wasn’t over it.

“I can find my own way,” she continued. “So goodnight, Clint.”

At least, that’s what she said. Clint heard _fuck you, you giant idiot. I needed you before and you didn’t come through. It started to rain and you climbed into a rowboat and left me behind to drown. We’re not together anymore, so I don’t need you for a cab or anything else._

She didn’t have to say any of that out loud, though.

He already knew.

Clint’s hand flexed at his side as he watched her turn to leave. He breathed in steady through his nose, counted to thirty, and then walked out of the bar. His busted couch and his dog were waiting for him at home, and he’d be damned if he disappointed them too.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda wants to have a talk with Darcy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was intended to be something much longer, but I think it flows better this way. We got Clint's side of things at the bar, now we get to hear from Darcy and see where she stands.
> 
> Thanks again to my betas, Dresupi and BoudicaMuse. I would be lost without both of you, you're the wind beneath my wings, etc, etc. xoxoxo

Monday afternoon brought about the usual argument with Jane. Darcy told her it was time to eat, Jane insisted she only needed fifteen more minutes to work, and eventually Darcy had to pry the Starkpad out of her hands and physically steer her to the kitchen.

“Fine, fine!” Jane swatted at Darcy to get her to let go of her flannel. “I could go for some cereal and a Coke.”

“Yes!” Darcy pumped her fist in the air. “First cereal, then more science.”

In a shocking turn of events, the community kitchen was fairly empty when Darcy and Jane walked in. Wanda and Bucky were the only warm bodies around, heads leaned close together and murmuring quietly to each other at the huge dining table.

“Soooooooo,” Jane leaned on the counter while Darcy poured them both a bowl of cereal. “Are we going to talk about Saturday?”

“What about it?” Darcy asked. She very pointedly did not look at Jane but she could still imagine the way her eyebrows flew into her hairline.

“Darren? You know, the guy that Nicole set you up with?” Jane was onto her. The hallmark sign of a bad date was not wanting to talk about it. “Come on, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

It wasn’t, really. Darren was mildly annoying and not her type at all, but the date itself hadn’t been horrible. It was more the whole ‘being rescued by her ex-boyfriend and forced to confront all of her unresolved feelings’ part that Darcy was struggling with. 

“It wasn’t. It was fine.” Darcy shrugged and carried her bowl of cereal to the breakfast bar. 

Jane was still eyeballing her when she sat down next to her. “Just fine? Nicole said he was a nice guy.”

“Yeah, he was wonderful.” Darcy rolled her eyes and shoved another heaping spoonful of cereal into her mouth. “He took me to three different bars, complained about the aesthetic of the first two, and got into a fistfight at the third.”

Sputtering, Jane choked a little on her cereal before getting her bearings. “What do you mean, he got into a fistfight?”

Darcy hunched her shoulders, chewing much longer than was necessary. She really didn’t want to talk about this. How was she going to get around telling Jane about Clint coming in like some white knight savior? Her friend had never been too keen on Clint anyway after the whole New Mexico situation, and the way their relationship exploded like jet fuel certainly didn’t help her opinion any. 

“Some guy spilled a drink on me.” Darcy finally explained. She frowned as she felt a prickling at the back of her neck like she was being watched, but a quick glance at Wanda and Bucky told her that they were still completely engrossed in each other. Huh. “He decided he was going to be my protector. I jetted out of there when the fists started flying.”

Jane made a face. “Shit. I’m sorry, Darcy.”

 _Yeah, me too_ , Darcy thought. She didn’t elaborate, though. There was no sense in making Jane listen to how the rest of her weekend had been a pitiful trip down memory lane and trying not to think of Clint and the puppy dog eyes he had given her before she’d stormed out of the bar.

She’d been doing fine. Honestly, she had. It had been four months post-Clint Barton and Darcy was ready to let go. That was why she’d agreed to let Nicole set her up in the first place. She was tired of walking on eggshells around the tower, waiting for Clint to appear and terrified of her reaction if he did. She needed to move on and stop pretending like things would go back to the way they were before.

They couldn’t go back. Clint had made damn sure of that.

“It’s fine,” Darcy said. “Dude was way more interested in his band than he was in me.”

Placated by the vague explanation, Jane spent the rest of lunch talking over a paper she’d been writing and Darcy was helping her edit. It was dense and mundane, but it was enough to take Darcy’s mind off of her dating life for a few minutes.

“Ah, shit.” Jane pushed her cereal bowl aside and pulled out her phone. “That’s Bruce. He needs my help. You coming?”

Darcy shook her head and slid off her stool. “You go ahead. I need some more fuel to deal with Bruce’s rambling today.”

Jane deposited her dishes in the sink, squeezed Darcy’s arm, and then headed out of the kitchen. Darcy got herself a second helping of cereal and walked back to the breakfast bar to eat in peace.

Jane’s vacant stool wasn’t vacant anymore. Wanda sat there with what could only be described as an expectant look, and Bucky lingered behind her with his hand on her shoulder. Darcy saw the light glinting off his cybernetic fingers.

“Hello, Darcy.” Wanda smiled at her. “How are you?”

“Uh…” Darcy’s eyes flickered between the two nervously. “I’m… good? Can I help you guys with something?”

“I would like to speak to you if you don’t mind.” Wanda spared Darcy a brief glance before looking back up at her permanent shadow. “It’s alright, James. Head to the training room and I will meet you there. Darcy is a friend.”

Oh, they were friends now?

It wasn’t like anyone took sides. Not officially, anyway. Pop Culture Night had come to a standstill after she and Clint broke up but everyone in the tower was always kind to Darcy. Polite, if not friendly. Natasha had even gone out of her way to take Darcy to lunch a few times, affairs that were equal parts terror, confusion, and awe on Darcy’s part.

Wanda, though. They weren’t friends. They hadn’t really been even when she and Clint were dating. Darcy knew that Clint looked at her like a little sister, had taken her and Pietro under his wing after the whole Ultron business, but they hadn’t really spoken. If Darcy was terrified of Natasha, she was cautious around Wanda. It seemed safer that way when dealing with a girl who could hear her thoughts, throw heavy machinery with her mind, and made the world’s deadliest assassin look at her like a lovestruck puppy.

After the breakup, Wanda had been firmly on the polite-but-not-friendly side of things, so Darcy was a little confused about what they could possibly have to talk about.

Darcy stayed quiet until Bucky and Wanda finished with their weird eye-fucking thing and the super-soldier left the kitchen.

“Okaaaaay,” Darcy stretched the word out, her eyebrows raised slightly. “What do you want to talk about, Wanda?”

“He misses you,” Wanda said simply.

Oh, hell no. They were not doing this.

“That’s funny,” Darcy snapped, her temper flaring up in an instant. “Because I’m here all the time. I’m around. He’s the one who’s turned into a ghost.”

Wanda’s eyes narrowed in the most withering stare Darcy had ever been given. It was even more impressive than Coulson’s, and that was saying something. Darcy used every bit of anger that she had to glare back at her with some kind of bite.

“He stays away for your benefit. He does not want to make things difficult or awkward.”

“This?” Darcy gestured between the two of them with her spoon. “This is both difficult _and_ awkward. Is there a point to this? Because I’m not really in the mood to be railroaded by my ex-boyfriend’s buddies.”

“You didn’t tell Jane about the bar,” Wanda said.

Darcy’s anger was rapidly reaching a boiling point. 

“How do you know about the bar?” Asking was only a formality. Darcy knew _exactly_ how Wanda knew.

Wanda shrugged. “I am Clint’s friend. We talk.”

“Great. That’s just fucking great.” Darcy tossed her spoon into her bowl, appetite sufficiently ruined. Nothing had changed. Clint was still talking to everyone but her. God forbid they have a real conversation. 

Missing her didn’t mean anything if he did it from a distance. 

A voice in the back of Darcy’s mind started to whisper to her. _Did you give him a chance to talk, though? Or did you just run out the minute he tried to help you?_

Darcy shoved the thoughts down deep. Deep enough that she wouldn’t be able to hear them when they got louder. It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t choose this.

“Since you two are such good friends, why don’t you do me a favor?” Darcy stood up and grabbed her bowl with shaking hands. “Tell Clint to mind his own business the next time he sees me out with someone, and that I don’t appreciate him sending his witchy attack dog to make me feel bad.”

She threw her bowl into the sink, pissed enough to not even bother dumping the excess cereal, and was almost to the door before Wanda called out to her again.

“I meant what I said.” Her voice was soft but it carried enough for Darcy to hear and falter, just a little. “He really does miss you. I don’t have to read his mind to know.”

The little voice from before started screaming in time with the pounding of Darcy’s heart.

“I don’t care,” Darcy said.

She picked up the pace to get out of the kitchen and slammed her hand into the button for the elevator.

 _Liar_ , the voice said. It didn’t matter, though. Missing him and being missed didn’t change anything at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, we'll see Darcy getting a call from home and Clint taking a step in the right direction.
> 
> I love kudos, but comments really, really feed my soul. Thanks for reading! :D
> 
> p.s. I'm on tumblr as treaddelicately as well if you'd like to follow me there!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy gets a call from home and Clint sees his chance to do some good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't intending on updating this weekend but I had a nasty fall on Friday, fractured my tailbone, and I've had little else to do but write all weekend, so here we are! Things get plotty here folks, so hang on tight. 
> 
> As always, thank you thank you thank you to my sweet betas, BoudicaMuse and Dresupi. This fic wouldn't be happening without either one of them. <3

The rest of the week passed in the same rhythm as the weeks before, with no more awkward altercations in bars or the community kitchen, and Darcy kept herself busy babysitting Jane and Bruce. It kept her from wallowing, from dwelling on that tiny voice that kept swelling up and calling her out for being a shitty lying liar about her feelings. It was so nice to have a distraction from her repressed feelings in fact, that she didn’t even mind coming into work on a Sunday.

Halfway through the day, Darcy’s phone rang. She might have ignored it if it wasn’t for the familiar sounds of her dad’s favorite Garth Brooks song. Long ago, Darcy had promised herself she would never ignore a call from her dad, so she did a quick check in on the science twins to make sure they were busy before stepping out of the lab to answer.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Darcy!” Her dad sounded chipper on the other end. “How ya been, kiddo?”

“I’m great! Is everything alright? I’m kind of working right now and I’d love to talk, but you know how Jane gets if I’m not right there to watch her.”

There was a long pause on the other end and it was enough to make Darcy’s heart start beating faster. _Please, don’t let it be bad news. I can’t take any bad news. Please_. 

“Dad,” she said with a shaking voice. “Is everything okay? Are the boys okay?”

“The boys are fine!” Her dad spoke too quickly, covering tracks that Darcy hadn’t even seen yet. Her eyes narrowed and she started pacing. “Okay, if the boys are okay, then that means something’s wrong with _you_.”

“Darcy,” her dad sighed. “I promise it’s nothing to worry about too much.”

Darcy’s throat constricted and a thousand questions filled her brain but she couldn’t make her mouth work properly. Dad was always downplaying things, ever since her mom had died six years ago. Everything was fine, he was fine, the boys were fine. She recognized the trait because she had it herself. Everything was great! It was perfect! And if it wasn’t, they were going to pretend it was until the cracks started to show.

“You need to tell me right now.”

“Sweetheart, I’m fine. I was out on a job a few days ago and was liftin’ some bags of concrete. Thought I just pulled something in my back, but the doctor’s callin’ it a herniated disc or something like that.”

Darcy exhaled, her hand shaking slightly before she pressed it to the wall for balance. Okay. This could be handled. This wasn’t cancer or one of the boys in a deadly car accident. Or an aneurysm. It wasn’t Mom all over again.

“Okay. So you’re okay?” Darcy forced herself to smile, to make it resonate through her voice when she spoke again. “The doctors give you anything good for the pain?”

“Aw, yeah.” Her dad chuckled and it made her smile turn into something a little more real. “I’m flyin’ pretty high right now. Cathy told me I was in no shape to be makin’ phone calls, but I needed to talk to ya, sweetheart.”

A little more tension went out of Darcy’s shoulders. Cathy was their next-door neighbor and had been friends with her family for years. Best friends with her mom, actually, and the glue that helped hold them together after she died. If Cathy was there, Darcy knew she’d make sure that her dad didn’t downplay any of his injury and that he’d take care of himself.

“I’m glad you called.” Darcy adjusted her phone to her other ear. “You gotta tell me this kinda stuff, Dad. I can’t be in the dark, even if it’s not a big deal.”

“Well, it’s not just that.” She heard the sigh on the other end of the phone. “I gotta ask you a favor.”

“Anything,” was Darcy’s automatic reply. She had a feeling she knew where this conversation was going. “What do you need?”

There was a muffled noise on the other end of the phone, some garbled argument and then the sounds of the phone hitting something, probably the floor. When the noise stopped, Cathy was on the other end of the phone.

“Hey, Darcy, hon.” Cathy sounded even more chipper than her dad did.

“Cathy, hey. What’s going on?”

“Well, you know your dad. Stubborn as a mule, that man. He needs you to come home and he doesn’t want to ask you. The doctor told him he’s got to limit his movement for at least two weeks—oh, don’t give me that, Paul, you know damn well that’s what he said! Pardon the swearing, Darcy, dear.”

Darcy pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “Cathy. How bad is it?”

More noise on the other end of the phone. It sounded like Cathy was walking away from her dad judging by his muffled protests on the other end. 

“It’s really not so bad, but he’ll push his limits until he’s a heap on the floor.” Cathy sighed. “Darcy, it’s too much for him right now. The boys have their after school things, a huge field trip coming up, I mean, he’s not even supposed to be getting out of bed right now except for physical therapy. And you know I will help him as much as I can, but it’s wedding season and I’m really busy at the shop.”

“No, no, Cathy, stop. You’ve obviously done enough.” Darcy looked up at the ceiling, already plotting her next moves in her head. “You don’t have to say anything else. I’ll be on the next flight out.”

“Honey, I know you’re busy—”

“No, seriously. I’m coming home. Go ahead and give the phone back to Dad, okay?”

“Alright, sweetie. If it helps, I’ll be real happy to see you. It’s been too long.”

 _Yeah_ , Darcy thought. _Because I’m a horrible daughter who spends her time with superheroes instead of her own family._

The guilt settled in her chest and made it hard to breathe, even when her dad’s voice came through the phone again.

“Darcy?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m here.” Darcy smiled thinly. “Look, you listen to whatever Cathy and the doctors tell you to do. I’m getting a flight out and I’ll be home as soon as I can, kay?”

“You don’t—”

“Stop,” Darcy silenced her dad with her best stern voice. “I’ll be there soon. I love you.”

It was enough to placate her father for now and he allowed her to hang up so she could start making travel plans. Darcy took a few deep breaths and tucked her phone away before walking back into the lab.

Jane, bless her, didn’t hesitate even for a second when she explained the situation.

“Go. I mean it.” She flapped her hands to get rid of any of Darcy’s lingering protests or reasons why she might be needed. “Go take care of your dad.”

“Who’s going to take care of you?”

Jane gave her an indignant look. “Please. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

Bruce winked at Darcy from behind Jane and mouthed, “I’ll tell Thor.”

Darcy sighed with relief and gave her friend one last hug before heading off to her room. She managed to secure a flight into an airport an hour and a half from her dad’s house, which was the best she could hope for considering he lived in the middle of nowhere. A quick call to Cathy secured her ride home from the airport, and then Darcy packed her things in the most haphazard way possible.

It was silly to be this frantic over a minor injury, but the phone call had rattled her. It felt like she had been waiting a long time for a disaster to happen, walking on eggshells ever since her dad had urged her to go back to Culver and then join Jane on her adventures. She felt responsible for her family. She should have been there all along helping her dad take care of the twins. Maybe if she was there to help, he wouldn’t be working so hard. He wouldn’t have been lifting gigantic bags of concrete and gotten injured in the first place. 

It was her responsibility, wasn’t it? Mom was gone. She’d gotten her for almost twenty years, but the twins had barely known her. They were only two when she died. They needed someone around to take care of them and so did her dad. This injury just felt like a slap in the face, a wake-up call that there was something more important waiting for her. It meant more than living in Tony Stark’s Tower and daydreaming about her superhero ex-boyfriend.

What kind of daughter was she? 

Darcy finished packing up her things and slung her bag over her shoulder, intending to flag down a cab outside of the tower to take her to the airport. She checked her phone as she started down the first flight of stairs, too keyed up to take the elevator.

A notification popped up from the airline and Darcy’s heart sank as she read that her flight had been cancelled because of a mechanical error. Okay, no big deal. This was an easy fix. Call the airline, ask for another flight, still get home as soon as possible.

Except it wasn’t an easy fix. The airline could book her on another flight but it wouldn’t leave until tomorrow evening. That was the next flight available to take her home without flying her into Detroit and there was no way that Cathy was going to be able to drive four hours one way to pick her up there. 

Panic started to set in and Darcy tried to reason with herself. It wasn’t like Dad was dying. He’d gone three days without even telling her about the news, but then, he’d had Cathy. Tomorrow was Monday and she’d need to get back to her flower shop and take care of things. She had her own life and this wasn’t her responsibility, it was Darcy’s. The boys would need to get to school. They would need someone to cook for them, someone to wash their clothes. If she didn’t get home, it was more likely than not that her stubborn dad would try to do it himself and end up making his injury worse.

Darcy sat on the floor right in the hallway of one of the residential floors, her bag hitting the tile with a thunk. She buried her face in her hands and started to run through her options, each one sounding worse than the last. Her shoulders started to shake as frustrated tears filled her eyes.

Something cold and wet nudged her hand and Darcy jumped, jolted out of the rush of emotion when she lifted her head and came nose to nose with Lucky.

“Hey boy,” she sniffled. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, Lucky, come on.” 

Of course. If Lucky was there, it only made sense that Clint was right behind him.

“He’s fine,” Darcy said softly. Her arms wrapped around Lucky’s neck when he placed one paw on her thigh and nudged his cold nose against her cheek. Her fingers ran through his fur, buying herself some time before she had to look up.

“Are you?” Clint’s voice was soft.

He was standing a few feet away with his hands tucked in his pockets and a concerned look on his face. Shit. She hadn’t really had time to work up a good cry, but her face always got red and blotchy when she was upset and she was pretty sure enough tears had formed that her eyeliner had probably smudged a little. 

This day just couldn’t get any worse, could it?

Darcy hugged Lucky a little tighter. “Where’s his flea collar?” It was the most obvious deflection of a question probably in the history of ever, but she didn’t want to talk about it. Not with him. Not here.

Clint raised an eyebrow at her. “He broke it.”

“And you haven’t gotten him a new one yet?”

“Slipped my mind.” There was a short pause. “Look, if you don’t wanna tell me what’s wrong, that’s fine. We were just on our way out.”

Now that she thought about it, it was strange that Clint was in the Tower. Even before Wanda had confronted her in the kitchen, Darcy had noticed that he stayed away as much as possible. 

As if sensing her curiosity, Clint scuffed his sneaker on the floor and said, “Stark wanted me to look at some prototype arrows he’s got.”

“That doesn’t explain why you’re on the residential floors.” Darcy winced at how bitchy she sounded. When did she turn into this person?

Clint, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. “Lucky wanted to come this way. Guess he knew he was needed.”

Darcy didn’t know what to say to that, so she just hugged the dog tighter. He licked her face and sat down next to her, making it clear that he had no intentions of going anywhere right now. 

There were a few moments of silence where Darcy pointedly ignored the elephant in the room and focused all of her attention on giving Lucky the affection she hadn’t been able to in months. Clint seemed to hesitate and then make his mind up about something, walking over to sit on the floor on her other side.

“His breath stinks.” Darcy pulled a face. “Are you not giving him the dental treats I got him, either?”

Clint smiled a little sheepishly. It was ridiculous, but it made something inside her melt, just a fraction. “I might have forgotten once or twice.”

“Which means they’re still sitting on top of the fridge and you haven’t touched them.”

“No! I’ve given him some.” Clint frowned in concentration. “Two, maybe.”

Darcy sighed and gave him a look. “Clint.”

“Aw, come on, Darce, they give him gas! You think his breath stinks, try lettin’ him sleep in bed with you after he eats one of those dumb treats.”

Darcy’s lips curved into a smile. “So don’t let him sleep in bed with you.”

“You know that asshole sleeps wherever he wants. He’s worse than a toddler.” Clint smiled, too. 

It occurred to Darcy that this was the most civil conversation they’d had in four months. The last one before this had been the night things between them exploded. 

Reality came crashing back in an instant and with it, all those memories she’d been trying hard to ignore. She’d spent all afternoon making fresh tortellini for their dinner that night until things had taken a nasty turn. The shouting, the dinner plate flung into a wall and shattering to pieces. Clint’s horrified look before he ran out of her kitchen. The dozens of calls she’d made to his phone, the relief she’d felt when he’d finally picked up five hours later only to hear his ex-wife’s voice on the other end. 

Darcy started to draw her legs up. She needed to get out of here. She couldn’t do this, couldn’t do the Clint thing right now. Not when her dad needed her.

“You goin’ somewhere?” Ever observant, Clint nudged her bag with his toe.

A rough laugh escaped Darcy’s throat. “Not anymore. Not until tomorrow, anyway. My flight was cancelled.”

“Where to?” 

“Home,” Darcy said. “I need to go home for a few weeks.”

A look of realization dawned on Clint’s face and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Somethin’ wrong with your dad?”

She didn’t have to tell him anything. She could tell him to get lost and he’d do it, she knew that for a fact. He looked as though he regretted even sticking his nose in her business in the first place anyway.

Instead of telling him to fuck off, though, Darcy deflated. 

“He’s hurt. It’s not bad, but he needs me. Except I can’t get a flight home until tomorrow evening at the earliest and I need to be there in the morning for my brothers. It’s not exactly like I can just fly a Quinjet to Michigan.”

“Well, no.” Clint shrugged. “But you can take a car.”

“Except I don’t own a car and I’m not about to ask any of the Avengers to drive me,” Darcy said, barely holding onto her wits long enough not to say _no shit, Sherlock_. “Jane can’t leave, she’s too busy, and I’m not desperate enough to ask Tony fucking Stark for one of his private drivers for a twelve hour trip. I guess I’m just going to have to rent a car.”

“I could drive you.” Clint said. Darcy blinked at him. 

“Did you not just hear me? I said I can rent a car.”

Clint shook his head. “It’s too far. When was the last time you even drove, Darcy? Let alone on busy expressways and for that long?”

Darcy thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know, London, maybe? What does it matter? I know how to drive.” 

“It’s too far and you’re going to be driving in the dark. Even if you manage to get a car in the next two hours, you won’t make it until two in the morning at the earliest.” Clint was getting his bossy tone on, the one that made her want to throw her hands up and walk away from him.

“I can handle it,” Darcy said firmly.

Clint raised an eyebrow at her. “Darce, come on. Let me help you. You probably gotta take the kids to school in the morning, right? You need sleep. If I drive, you can sleep.”

She bit her lip to hide a frustrated noise. It was irritating her that he was making sense. “What about you? You need sleep.”

All it took was one look; he didn’t even have to say it out loud. Clint rarely slept more than a few hours a night and he functioned just fine. Another argument out the window.

“You really want to drive me to Michigan?”

“I mean, I just…” Clint ducked his head and didn’t meet her eyes. “I want to help. You seem really freaked about your dad and if it’s important to you…” 

It was. The most important thing, actually. Her heart ached and every minute that she wasn’t home to tend to her family felt like shards of glass in her lungs.

“Your car will make the drive?” Darcy raised an eyebrow incredulously. Clint’s car wasn’t exactly known for being reliable.

“Without a doubt.” His voice was firm.

Darcy hesitated another few moments. Was it really a good idea to put herself in a car with her ex-boyfriend for twelve hours?

“Who’s going to watch Lucky?”

Clint pulled out his phone and sent off a text. “Natasha. Any other questions?”

It made sense, as much as she hated it. The more she thought about it, the easier it sounded. If they left soon, she’d make it home late but early enough to get some sleep before she had to get up and take Ethan and Elijah to school in the morning. She wouldn’t have to burden Cathy with picking her up from the airport. She also couldn’t see any other way around letting Clint drive her. She wasn’t close enough to anyone else to spend that much time in a car with them, and she had to seriously wonder if any of the other Avengers even knew how to drive.

Still. It was twelve hours in a car with Clint.

“You’re really going to drive twelve hours one way just to drop me off?” Darcy crossed her arms and fixed him with a curious stare.

“And I will come back and get you if you need me to.” Clint said without hesitation.

“Not necessary.” Darcy shook her head. “I can get a flight back. What about you? You’re going to have to sleep at some point.”

“I’m sure there’s a motel I can get somewhere on the way back.”

Darcy nodded, chewing her lower lip.

“Does this mean you’re agreeing to this?” Clint asked.

There it was. That hopeful puppy dog look in his eyes.

“Don’t get too excited. I’ll pay for gas, but you’re on your own for snacks, dude.”

“Deal.” Clint got to his feet and stuck out his hand.

There was another pause as Darcy considered it. It was a transaction, she reasoned. He was feeling guilty and trying to be helpful and she was just selfish enough to take advantage of his guilt for this. Her dad needed her. If that meant she had to go on a road trip with Clint Barton, then so be it.

Darcy took his hand and shook it. “Deal. So get your shit together, because I want to leave in the next two hours.”

“I’ve got a go-bag in my car. I just need to drop Lucky off with Nat and we can go.”

That was that, then. They were going to Michigan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to drop some love in the comments, y'all! I love love love hearing your feedback.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Darcy head to Michigan and run into some bumps along the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I intended to update a little sooner than this, but life gets in the way. Thanks for being patient with me and here's a much longer chapter as a reward! :D
> 
> Once again, thanks to BoudicaMuse for all her insane beta work. She's my rock, you guys. This fic would not be happening without all of her feedback and unending patience with me. <3
> 
> Just as a heads up, there are brief passing mentions of domestic abuse in this chapter. If you’re familiar with Clint’s family history from the comics then it won’t be a shock, but I think the warning is necessary all the same.

Clint’s car only had enough gas to get them out of the busiest traffic, so stopping in New Jersey for snacks and fuel was a necessary evil. Darcy was too wired and her gut was too twisted for an actual meal, but Clint got himself a sandwich from the Subway attached to the gas station. Three hours later and half of it was still sitting in the cupholder between them. Darcy was seriously considering stealing the rest of it.

Except stealing food felt firmly out of the realm of whatever weird agreement they had going on right now, so she contented herself with the candy she’d picked up at the gas station. Nerves made Darcy snacky, so she’d grabbed two different chocolate bars, a bag of sour candy, and white chocolate covered pretzels. Clint had given her side-eye when she’d popped the top on an energy drink, so she’d guzzled the entire thing just to spite him and was sincerely regretting it now as her leg bounced up and down.

“If you’ve gotta pee, just say so.” Clint’s eyes never left the road.

Darcy pressed her foot firmly to the floorboard. “I don’t. I peed in Jersey, it’s fine.”

“You also drank an entire 16 ounce Red Bull as soon as we got in the car,” Clint pointed out. His face was blank but Darcy knew him well enough to know his _I told you so_ tone.

“I don’t need to pee,” she said. “I’m just ready to go home. Can’t you drive any faster?”

That got a chuckle out of him. “Let me worry about driving. Eat your damn nuts over there and be quiet.”

“It’s a chocolate bar!”

“With nuts in it. It’s basically a health food.”

“Dude, it’s chocolate. The nuts give it a crunch. Don’t make fun.” Darcy threw the wrapper across the car at Clint. He exhaled a short laugh and brushed it off his lap onto the floorboard before reaching into the bag of pretzels tucked between his thighs.

“And don’t give me grief about my choice of food,” Darcy added. “You’re gonna ruin that girlish figure of yours with those carby snacks.”

Clint laughed for real this time with a pretzel held between his teeth. Darcy rolled her eyes at the exaggerated way he snapped it in half and used his tongue to hook it into his mouth.

“If my terrible diet and erratic exercise pattern hasn’t done it yet, I think I’m good.”

Which, you know, fair. Their whole situation right now was somewhat painful and definitely awkward, but Darcy wasn’t blind. His crazy big arms had been a lot of his appeal in the first place, and the defined abs she knew were hidden under his shirt didn’t hurt either. Didn’t matter, though. Even if he was hot as hell, he was still a disaster that she’d barely crawled away from. 

Pushing down the urge to argue, Darcy stuck her tongue out at him and popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth. All in all, the situation wasn’t as terrible as she’d initially thought it would be. It was about as awkward as she’d anticipated, but she wasn’t sitting in the passenger seat fuming. Clint’s offer to drive her home had smoothed the pointy edges of her anger for the moment. All the extra headspace was being filled with worry and anticipation.

It was enough to take her mind off of Clint’s arms and make her pull her phone out to shoot off a text.

_Darcy: Hey dad, just checkin in. I should be home about 2:15 if traffic stays ok_

_Dad: I’ll wait up for you. Can’t wait to see you sweetie. ;)_

_Darcy: Dad don’t use winky faces, it’s weird_

_Dad: :(_

_Darcy: and you better be in bed_

A few minutes passed and Darcy readied herself to text him again, planning to give him grief for ignoring doctor’s orders, but then her phone dinged with a photo message. It was a selfie though it was clear her dad hadn’t taken it because Darcy’s brothers were on either side of him in his bed. Ethan’s fingers were spread into a peace sign in front of his face, his hair sticking up at the back. Elijah had on a super cheesy smile and what looked like cookie crumbs at the corners of his mouth.

 _Darcy:_ _boys are doin a good job keeping you honest. can’t wait to see you_

She checked the time again before tucking her phone away. The panic had subsided some since they’d gotten on the road but it had done nothing to ease the ache in Darcy’s heart. She wanted to be home with her family. It had been months since she’d played checkers with the boys or watched Law and Order with her dad. After the torrent of emotions she’d been swept up in lately, it would be nice to get some distance from everyone at the tower.

Clint’s voice shocked her out of the thoughts.

“How long you plan on stayin’ home, anyway?”

Darcy shrugged. “As long as Dad needs me.”

“And work?”

“Jane and Banner have other babysitters, they’ll be fine without me for a few weeks. Besides, I’ve already had Jane send me a list of things she needs done this week. I’ve got a paper to edit for her and some other stuff.”

The steering wheel squeaked a little as Clint twisted his hands against it. He seemed irritated for some reason and Darcy couldn’t put her finger on it. Things had been fine five minutes ago and if anyone had a reason to be irritated, she most certainly didn’t think that right fell to him. 

“What’s your deal?” she finally asked.

He shrugged. “Nothin’. It’s nothin’.”

Darcy pursed her lips. “It’s not _nothin’_ , it’s something. You might as well just say it.”

“It’s not my business.”

“It never is, usually doesn’t stop you from saying stupid shit anyway.”

Clint’s jaw twitched. “You’re going home to take care of your dad.”

“Yeah, and?” Where was he going with this? It didn’t make any sense.

“You’re going home to take care of your dad,” he repeated, emphasizing the second half of the sentence. “Doesn’t that warrant you a little time off from the science stuff?”

The confusion only grew and was quickly churning up in her gut, whipped into something like anger. “I _asked_ Jane to send me a list. I want to work. She needs my help.”

“She doesn’t, though.” Clint sounded exasperated.

“I don’t really think it’s any of your business,” Darcy snapped. She’d heard enough people talk about how Jane didn’t need her and generally, it didn’t bother her. She knew she was good at what she did. But to hear it from Clint was enough to press all of her Fuck You buttons.

Clint shoved his bag of pretzels in the center console and put both hands on the wheel. He was gripping it hard enough that when Darcy looked, his skin was strained white against his knuckles. 

“I just think you should focus on your family, that’s all. You’re all worried about your dad and the kids but you’re gonna spend time doing Foster’s shit work? You know other people can do that for her.”

Darcy stared at him, stung. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“There’s a whole crew of scientists working for Stark, and you mean to tell me she needs _you_ to read over her stuff for publication? Come on, Darcy.”

“So, what, you think I can’t do it? That I’m not smart enough?” Her heart hammered in her throat as the adrenaline kicked in. Of course this was a terrible idea. Why, why, why had she ever let herself think that she and Clint could be civil long enough for this?

Clint took a deep breath in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth.

“That’s not what I said,” he managed to get out. His voice was much quieter than before. “I just think if you’re going home to be with your dad, maybe work can wait. Should wait.”

“I can handle taking care of my dad and editing a stupid paper at the same time.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though. You’re taking on too much.”

“I need to pee,” Darcy said, making the decision to end it all there. Given the choice of admitting she was wrong about needing to use the bathroom or arguing with Clint about things that made her cry into her pillow at night, she’d take the extra stop off the freeway every single time.

He opened his mouth and she tensed, ready to cut him off if he wanted to keep it up, but all that came out was a small sigh.

“I saw a sign for an exit in a few miles,” he finally said.

Darcy crossed her arms over her chest and looked out the window to her right, pointedly away from him. Her bladder was full and her hands shook a little in her lap from the adrenaline. Stupid, stupid. She pulled out her phone to check the time again and bit down on the inside of her cheek. Seven more hours of this. Just seven more hours and she could forget about Clint Barton for a few weeks.  
  


* * *

The radio was on now but Clint wasn’t listening to it. Darcy had switched it on when she got back in the car at the rest stop, likely as some kind of filler noise, but she apparently wasn’t listening to it either because she’d fallen asleep twenty miles later. She was still curled up in the passenger seat with her head pillowed on her wadded-up cardigan, her chest rising and falling with her steady breathing.

Clint, meanwhile, was wide awake and berating himself.

Was he ever going to get out of his own fucking way? Would it have been that hard to just shut up for once? They’d been making progress until his words had gotten twisted. Of course she wasn’t incompetent, he just wanted her to take a damn break. He also wanted a chance to do something good for her; to prove to her and himself that he wasn’t a complete and total waste of space. Here he was, though, back at square one with Darcy pissed at him.

Why was he even doing this, anyway? What was it going to change? She had every right to be angry with him. He tried to convince himself that he was better now, but deep down he worried that he wasn’t ever going to be worthy. His subconscious tortured him with it all the time.

The dreams were probably the worst. They didn’t come often, but when they did, he saw the plate shattering on the wall in her kitchen. He saw Darcy’s eyes all pretty and blue and wide with shock. Sometimes he saw that shocked look in dreams where he closed his hands around her throat or knocked her across a room. Sometimes she was Darcy and sometimes she was his mom and sometimes his hands weren’t his own, but his dad’s.

Clint took a shuddering breath and rubbed the heel of his hand over the steering wheel. The motion reminded him where he was. It was an old trick from the therapist he’d seen after Loki put his brain through a blender. He hadn’t lasted long, maybe a few sessions, but the technique still came to him in times of need and he needed it now. 

Darcy had every right to be angry with him. Not just for the fight earlier, but for everything, including the way things had ended between them. He’d scared the fuck out of her and run away without an explanation. He’d ignored her calls in favor of getting drunk and spilling his guts to Bobbi. And then turned around and lied to Darcy because it was easier than telling her the truth.

She never would have accepted what a fucking nightmare he was if he’d come out straight and said it. No, it was better to show her. Let his actions speak for themselves and show her just how awful he could be. At least, he’d thought that was the best course of action. Now, he wasn’t convinced of that at all.

He couldn’t take back what he’d done or let her think he’d done. Throwing duct tape over the holes he’d blown into their relationship wasn’t going to do anyone any good, either. Maybe the solution was to start over. Build something with a better foundation. Maybe when the storm rolled through again, it’d be strong enough to hold up to the wind.

That was a terrible analogy, though. It wasn’t some outside factor that had caused them to crumble. It was him. He was the storm. But maybe if he didn’t start to downpour the minute things got hard, they could weather it out together.

Clint brought his hand up from the steering wheel to rub his temples where a headache was forming. It didn’t matter, anyway. He couldn’t build shit by himself and Darcy wasn’t interested.

The next few hours drifted by in a haze of passing headlights and barely intelligible ‘80’s hair bands on the radio. Darcy started to snore somewhere in Ohio and her head was sliding off her makeshift pillow, but Clint didn’t dare wake her. 

He was wondering how Lucky was doing at Natasha’s when the temperature symbol on the dash lit up. Clint blinked a few times, caught off guard by the needle sitting firmly in the red.

Shit. The car was overheating. Clint turned off cruise control and eased off the gas while searching for the nearest exit with a gas station where he could buy some coolant. There was probably a leak in the radiator and it was going to be a pain in the ass, but it was manageable. He could deal with it after he got Darcy to her dad’s house.

She was still asleep so he parked the car in front of the gas station and ran in to grab a jug of coolant and a paper funnel. As he’d suspected, when he lifted the hood the reservoir was completely empty. Clint sighed and emptied the entire jug into the tank, dropped the hood, and climbed back into the car.

Darcy was sitting up with her eyes narrowed at him. One side of her face was all red and had sleep lines from her sweater but it was hard to find her adorable when she was obviously so mad at him.

“What’s going on?”

Clint started the car and let it idle for a minute to make sure nothing drastic happened. The warning light on the dash was gone, so that was a good sign.

“Nothing. We’re all good, just needed some coolant.” His eyes flicked continually to the gauge while he merged back onto the highway, though. So far so good.

“You said the car would make the drive,” Darcy accused. 

“And it will. We’re only forty miles out.”

She looked completely unconvinced but dropped it and settled back into the seat with her arms crossed. Clint threw up a silent prayer that he was right and he wouldn’t be in even more shit if they broke down on the side of the road.

Twenty more minutes passed and he started wishing he’d said that prayer out loud. The needle edged closer to the red and it was clear that the car was overheating again. He refused to look at Darcy but he could feel her eyes lasering holes in the side of his skull.

“Pull over,” she said when the warning lit up.

“We can make it. It’s twenty more miles.”

“Clint, you don’t have to ruin your car to make a fucking point. Pull over!”

Fuming, Clint turned on his hazard lights and pulled to the shoulder. He took a breath before popping the hood and climbing out to check the reservoir again. Bone dry. Fuck.

He stood there with his hands braced on his hips for a few minutes to think it over. It was almost two in the morning. They were in the middle of nowhere Michigan on a fall night. Sure, they could walk, but it would be cold and uncomfortable and he had no idea where the nearest town even was from here. There weren’t really a whole lot of options here, and all the ones they had available were shit anyway.

Clint climbed back into the car in time to catch Darcy on the tail end of a phone call.

“—seriously, thank you. You’re a lifesaver,” she said. “See you soon.”

She hung up. Clint looked at her, twenty-seven hours of consciousness catching up to him in an instant and hammering him with exhaustion.

“My dad’s neighbor is coming to get us,” Darcy explained matter-of-factly. “She’s got a tow dolly and she can drop the car off at the mechanic in town so it can be looked at in the morning.”

She looked pissed. Worse than pissed, actually.

“She doesn’t have to do that. I can wait for a tow truck,” Clint insisted.

“No one is going to come out here and get you this late.” Darcy looked completely unmoved at his attempt at chivalry. “Franklin’s the only one close enough to even consider it and you don’t wake him up past midnight.”

Clint sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I can sleep in the car and wait here. Call a tow truck in the morning.”

“Don’t be stupid. Cathy’s already on her way. You can sleep on the couch at Dad’s for tonight and get your car tomorrow and go.” Darcy’s tone indicated that it wasn’t up for discussion. After the crap he’d put her through with this whole thing, he probably deserved that.

“I really am sorry. It’s not like I wanted this to happen.”

Darcy made a noncommittal noise but didn’t respond, busying herself with typing and poking around on her phone. Clint laid his head back on the seat and closed his eyes, wishing that good intentions made a lick of difference. They didn’t, though. It was all down to the execution and he just couldn’t stick the damn landing.

Chains rattling snapped him back into consciousness. A truck with a tow dolly attached had pulled in front of them and by the time Clint sat up, a woman was climbing out and walking to the car with a flashlight in hand. Darcy jumped out and ran to greet her with a hug.

“Hey, there,” Clint heard the woman’s cheery voice as he climbed out of the car, too. “Got yourself in a pinch, huh?”

Darcy smiled thinly. “You could say that. Cathy, this is Clint. It’s his car.”

Cathy turned and held her hand out. Even with just the red glow of her tail lights for illumination, Clint could see the insane amount of curly hair piled on top of her head and the freckles spattered all down both of her arms. He shook her hand with a sheepish look.

“Thanks for coming out. I really could have waited for a tow truck,” he said. 

Cathy laughed and waved her hand at him. “Boy, there’s nothin’ dragging Franklin outta bed for a tow at two in the morning. Let’s just get this thing up on the dolly so we can get you to Paul’s, he’s probably havin’ a fit by now.”

Somehow, her easygoing demeanor only made Clint feel worse about the whole thing. He shoved it down and helped Cathy get the car loaded up. It wasn’t ideal but between the two of them, they made it work. He and Darcy grabbed their things from the car and they all squished into the cab of the truck with Darcy in the middle and Clint pressed up against the passenger door.

“Sorry about all the dog hair, honey,” Cathy said.

It took him a minute to realize she was apologizing to him.

“No worries. I’ve got a dog, too.”

Cathy made an excited noise. “You do? Oh, I want to hear all about him!”

“Hey,” Darcy interrupted. “Wait, is this Bull hair? How is that old mutt?”

“He’s got bad hips but he’s doing alright. Enough with all that, tell me about you!”

Clint knew Darcy enough to know her distraction tactics. It was most likely that she was just angry and didn’t even want to hear him speak, but either way, he was grateful for the reprieve from the conversation. He was tired and irritable and feeling useless. Talking about Lucky was only going to make it worse.

The two women chattered beside him while they drove into town. Clint leaned his head on the window, alert enough to be looking at his surroundings but not really registering any of it. He pulled himself together enough to unload the car with Cathy once they got to the mechanic. She handed him a paper envelope from a metal box where he had to fill out his information and seal the keys inside to slip it into a drop box. 

“They might get to it first thing in the morning this way,” Cathy explained. “Hopefully it’s just a leak they can seal up and get you back on the road.”

Probably not with his luck, but Clint liked her optimism. 

The ride to the house was significantly quieter. He managed to keep from falling asleep but only just, and it was a relief when they pulled into a driveway and Cathy turned the truck off.

“Thanks again. I really owe you one.” Darcy smiled over at her neighbor. “I’ll run some deliveries for you while I’m home.”

“Nonsense. Now you get on over there to your dad before he blows a gasket. That boy of yours looks like he needs a good night’s sleep, too.”

“Not my boy,” Clint heard Darcy whisper under her breath before she nudged him with her elbow. “Let’s go. The house is right there.”

They gathered their bags and walked next door. Clint could make out some of the house but the porch light was dim and he was too tired to focus on it, anyway. Darcy let them inside and immediately, there was a call from upstairs.

“Darce? That you?”

“Yeah, Dad. I’ll be right up, don’t get up,” Darcy called back up the stairs. Clint swayed a little on his feet and blinked at her. She sighed, dropped her bags, and disappeared for a moment. When she reappeared, she had a pillow and a blanket in her arms.

“Couch is over here.” She dumped the pillow and blanket onto the furniture and gave him a look. “Get some sleep. I’ll take you to the mechanic tomorrow so you can go home.”

Clint nodded at her and dropped his backpack at the foot of the couch. He sunk into the cushions and started to work his hearing aids out, but paused partway when Darcy started to walk away.

“Darcy,” he said. 

She turned and looked at him blankly. “What?”

“Thank you.” Clint finished taking his aids out with his eyes still locked onto her.

Her lips moved and he thought she said _you’re welcome_. He was tired, though, and he’d never been great at lip reading, so it could have just as easily been _go fuck yourself_.

Clint sighed and pulled the pillow she’d given him over his face. Tomorrow was another disaster he could deal with when it arrived. For now, he just needed to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Valentine's Day so if you want to show some love, a comment is always greatly appreciated! Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets an unexpected offer from Darcy's dad. Darcy gets a guilt trip and a hell of an eyeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys. You guysssss. This chapter is a monster and I'm so, so happy with how it turned out.
> 
> All the love in the world to my beta, BoudicaMuse. If you haven't looked at the first chapter in a while, please go check out the moodboard she made for this fic featuring Charlie Hunnam as Clint. Also, y'all have her to thank for that end scene. She wanted post-shower Clint and I tried to deliver. ;D

Clint woke to the feeling of being watched. Groggily, he cracked open one eye and was greeted with the sight of two dark-haired boys goggling at him with wide eyes. 

Darcy’s brothers, right. Christ, they really were identical.

Awareness started to kick in and Clint cringed as he remembered the night before. His legs ached from the awkward angle he’d slept in on the too-small couch. Mostly he just felt weird about being watched like an animal in a zoo while he slept, especially since their lips were moving and he had no clue if they were trying to talk to him or each other. He raised a hand in greeting and they both took off, leaving him to grope blindly for his aids on the end table where he’d put them the night before.

He got them situated in time to hear Darcy calling from somewhere out of view.

“Ethan, where did you put your lunch box?”

“It’s already in my backpack,” one of the boys replied.

“Hawkeye’s awake!” The other one shouted. 

Elijah, Clint remembered with sudden clarity. Ethan and Elijah. 

“I told you not to call him that! Come on, you two, I need you to focus. We’re late, we’re so late,” Darcy groaned out. He could hear the frustration in her voice. “Elijah, please, get your spelling words off the table. Ethan, go get your shoes on, let’s go.”

Clint was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when Darcy came through the arched doorway from the kitchen to the living room. Her hair was piled into a messy bun on top of her head and she had half of a bagel wedged between her teeth.

“Morning,” he said as she raced by him. He felt bad when she jumped and nearly lost her breakfast but at least she didn’t glare at him.

“Uh, morning,” Darcy said with her voice all muffled by her bagel. She stuffed her arms into her jacket and started yanking on her boots. She stumbled a little but yanked the bagel out of her mouth long enough to talk. “Look, I’m running late to get the boys to school. I’ll have to come back to take you to get your car.”

Clint started to reply but cut himself off momentarily with a yawn and that was enough time for the twins to come barreling back into the room.

“Darcy, there’s orange juice all over my spelling words!”

“Hey, where’s my other shoe?”

“I can’t turn in my spelling words with orange juice all over them!”

“Hey Hawkeye, have you seen my shoe?” 

Clint was not nearly awake enough for the amount of noise or the brain activity any of this required, but he shook his head. “Nah, kid, sorry. Haven’t seen your shoe.”

“See? He doesn’t care if we call him Hawkeye,” the twin with the soggy spelling words said. “Is he coming with us?”

He most _definitely_ didn’t want them using his callsign all the time, but since this was likely to be his only interaction with the twins before he left, he’d let it slide.

Darcy finished wiping the paper on her leggings and shook her head. She took a bite of her bagel and swallowed before she ever really chewed. “No, we need to leave right now. I don’t think Clint’s ready to go. Elijah, put these in your backpack. Shoes on, _come on._ ”

“It’s all good.” Clint swung his legs over the edge of the couch to sit up. “Go ahead without me.”

That earned him a grateful look from Darcy and disappointed groans from both boys. 

“Are you gonna be here when we get home?” Elijah asked hopefully. At least, Clint thought it was Elijah. Man, he really could not tell them apart at all.

“We’ll talk about it in the car,” Darcy cut in, saving him from awkwardly crushing her brothers’ spirits. She gave Clint a brief look, all frazzled as she ushered the boys out the door. “I’ll be back in less than an hour.” 

“Like I said, it’s all good.” Clint gave her a tired smile. She didn’t smile back, just nodded and shut the door. 

Once he got his bearings, he did a little exploring around the house to find the bathroom. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the exterior of the house between the dark and the total exhaustion last night, but the inside was small and cozy with hunting paraphernalia and photos littering the walls.

The temptation was too much to resist and Clint stopped to look at a little cluster of Darcy’s school photos. One in particular caught his eye, a portrait of her at probably no more than thirteen or fourteen with bright purple wire-rimmed glasses and blunt bangs. Her smile was cheesy but still cute as hell with that adorable gap between her two front teeth.

Tearing himself from the photos, Clint found the bathroom down a short hallway. A little water splashed on his face woke him up enough to hunt down some sort of caffeine and he headed back out to the kitchen.

He walked through the archway just off the living room and found a mid-sized kitchen with a huge bay window that let in light from the east side of the house. There was still evidence of the morning’s chaos on the table—an empty bowl, someone’s banana peel, a page of spelling words had been left behind. Clint looked at the counters, surprisingly clean for a man who lived alone with two eight year olds, and found himself horrified at the one item missing.

There was no coffee pot.

Just as he was processing that mind-melting piece of information, his phone rang. He dug it out of his pocket and blinked at the unfamiliar area code on the caller ID until he remembered, oh yeah, he’d left his number on that slip when he dropped the car off. God, sometimes being tired really was like being drunk.

Clint punched the little button and put his phone to his ear. “Hello?”

There was a lot of shop noise in the background and then a gruff male voice. “Yeah, you Clint Barton?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“This is Steve from Shifters Auto. We got your car in this morning. Your radiator’s in a bad way, whole thing’s gonna need replaced.”

So much for Cathy’s optimism. Clint took a breath and rubbed more grit from his eye. “How much is that gonna cost?”

“Probably ‘bout eight-fifty, give or take.” Fucking ouch. “Won’t know until we get the part ordered, though.”

“You don’t have a part on hand?”

“Nope. Gonna be about two weeks until we can get one in, too.”

Clint swore under his breath. This was what he got for trying to do something good.

“Alright,” he said. “Uh, yeah, go ahead and order the part if you need my permission or whatever.”

The mechanic agreed to keep him updated on the part and get him a full quote once they got it ordered. Clint swore again as he hung up, doing another sweep of the kitchen to see if he’d missed a coffee pot on the first glance. He really, really needed some caffeine to process this latest shitshow.

Just as he was about to start going through the cupboards, Darcy’s dad appeared in the doorway. Clint recognized him from a few FaceTime calls. He was fairly tall and it was clear that all his kids got the dark hair from him, but the similarities between him and Darcy ended there.

“Heya, Clint,” he said in a cheery voice. He was walking stiffly and stopped to lean on the counter. “Thought you’d be heading out with Darcy. You lookin’ for something?”

“Morning, sir.” Clint straightened on instinct. “She was in a hurry. And I was just, uh... Looking for coffee?”

Paul chuckled and shuffled a little further into the kitchen, pointing up at one of the cupboards. “They say it’s an acquired taste, but I just think it tastes like dirt. Got some instant up there for guests if you want it. Just help me into this chair first, would ya?”

It was unclear if he could really consider himself a guest with how pissed Darcy was at him, but nevertheless, Clint let Paul hold onto his forearm while he situated himself in one of the high-backed kitchen chairs. Darcy had been vague about what sort of injury her dad had but with the way he grimaced and tried to sit as straight as possible, it was probably something with his back.

“Thanks, son. Go on and get yourself some coffee.”

Feeling even more awkward, Clint dug into the tall cupboard and produced a still-sealed jar of instant coffee. Better than nothing and maybe it would kick-start his brain so he could start figuring out what to do next. He filled a mug with water and stuck it in the microwave to get it hot.

“Thanks.” He turned to give Paul a nod.

“Like I said, you’re a guest. I’d get it for you myself, but, well…” He gestured down to his body, stiff in his chair. “I’m out of sorts right now.”

“Must be a hell of an injury,” Clint said, pulling the mug from the microwave and mixing in the coffee. He looked over his shoulder at Paul in time to see him shrug in a damn near perfect imitation of Darcy whenever she was trying to brush something off.

“It could be worse,” he said, and that sounded like Darcy, too.

Clint sat at the table across from Paul and took a sip of his poorly mixed coffee. It was stale and not dissolving correctly and the grounds got stuck in his throat. But Clint was not about to waste caffeine or spit mud water in a stranger’s kitchen, so he swallowed it down with a grimace. 

“How bad’s the car?” Paul asked.

“Radiator. Guy called and said it’ll be two weeks before they can even get the part.”

“You tell Darcy that yet?” 

Clint’s hand tightened on his mug. “No, not yet. She was gonna take me to the mechanic when she got back, but I guess we don’t need to do that now.”

Paul nodded, looking thoughtful. 

“She’s always been an independent little thing, Darcy. Didn’t even want anyone to hold her hand on her first day of kindergarten. Determined to do things on her own.” Paul stopped to take a drink of his juice and Clint kept quiet, sensing a Talk coming. 

“It got worse when Gina died,” Paul added. “Darcy was at school when it happened, totally unexpected brain aneurysm. She flew home the same day and didn’t leave for a year. I was so deep in a funk that I let her.” 

“But she went back,” Clint countered. She’d been finishing up her degree when he met her, he knew that much at least.

“She did,” Paul conceded. “Because I made her. It took me a while to convince her, but it worked. She deserved to go back to school. She’s more brilliant than she gives herself credit for.”

“Stubborn too,” Clint said, unable to help himself.

Paul laughed. 

“Yeah, she is. Gets that from me. I didn’t want her to come home. Thought maybe I can handle this stupid injury on my own but even I’ve gotta ask for help sometimes. I just hate puttin’ this much on her. She’s always got so much goin’ on at work, I don’t want to dump more on her plate.”

“She thinks she can do everything at once,” Clint said. “She brought work from home, too. Told me about it in the car.” He felt a little guilty about ratting Darcy out, but if Paul had the same concerns, it didn’t hurt to bring it up. Maybe he’d be able to convince her to put it away while she was home. Fat chance, but better than none at all.

“Doesn’t surprise me. She’s always biting off more than she can chew.” Paul eyed Clint over the rim of his orange juice. “Your car isn’t gonna be fixed for two weeks. How you plan on getting home?”

Feeling like an idiot, Clint shrugged. “I hadn’t gotten that far yet.”

“So, don’t.”

Clint blinked. “What?”

“Stay,” Paul said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “I don’t like the idea of Darcy running herself ragged here tryin’ to take care of me and the boys. If she had an extra hand, it wouldn’t be so bad.”

Clint thought about it for a moment. There was something there, something small and bright in the middle of the idea. If he stayed, maybe there was a chance. He could show her that he wanted to stick things out this time. He could make sure she didn’t work herself to death keeping everyone else around her happy. He could prove how much he cared, maybe make amends for how he’d fucked everything into the dirt before.

There was just one problem, though.

“She won’t let me help her.” 

“She let you drive her here, didn’t she?” Paul raised a disbelieving eyebrow.

_Yeah, and I managed to ruin that,_ Clint thought.

“That was different. I was a means to an end.” He wasn’t dumb enough to think it was anything other than that with how angry she’d been with him. 

“I’m gonna level with you,” Paul said. “I don’t know why you two broke up. I don’t need to know.”

Clint was genuinely surprised by that.

“You don’t want to know?”

“Oh, I _want_ to know.” Paul winced as he sat up in his chair. The moment of pain passed and he gave Clint a shameless grin. “But I don’t need to know. That business is between the two of you and I trust you to sort it out. If it was something I needed to be really worried about, Darcy’s smart enough she never would have sat in a car with you.”

It was enough to make Clint’s head spin. This conversation had not taken a single turn that he’d expected.

“But why do you want me to stay?”

Paul leveled a look at him. “You always look a gift horse in the mouth like this? Look me in the eyes and tell me that you don’t want to be here. Guy like you don’t offer to drive a woman twelve hours one way at the drop of a hat unless he’s got ulterior motives, son.”

Clint met his gaze but couldn’t bring himself to say it. Because the truth was, he wanted to be here. Maybe not _here,_ necessarily, but he wanted to be near Darcy. He wanted a chance.

“That’s what I thought.” Paul looked satisfied that his hunch was right. “The boys can share a room while you’re here. Saves you some time, too, you won’t have to come back in two weeks and get your car.”

“She won’t like it,” Clint said with absolute certainty.

“It’s my job as a father to teach my children to live with crap they don’t like. So are you staying or what?”

It was a chance. It could blow up in his face, and who was he kidding, it probably would. But he was used to jumping into shit without worrying about the consequences.

“Yeah,” he finally said. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

“Good, cause I wasn’t gonna take no for an answer.” Paul smiled like a man who’d gotten exactly what he wanted. “Now dump that crap, it smells almost as bad as you do.”

Clint gave him a sheepish look. “Yesterday was a long day.” 

“All the more reason for you to go wash up before Darcy gets back,” Paul said. “Go put your crap in Ethan’s room. We’ll talk about getting a temporary coffee pot when you get done.”

“Yes, sir,” Clint said. Maybe he wasn’t always great at following orders, but this was one he could get behind.

* * *

The boys were in an absolute tizzy the entire way to school, completely beside themselves that Hawkeye was staying at their house.

“You guys do realize I live around more superheroes, right?” Darcy finally said after the tenth time Elijah mentioned bragging about Clint to his friends. She looked in the rearview mirror at both of them with a grin. “I had breakfast with Captain America last week.”

Elijah lit up, but Ethan was completely unimpressed. “Yeah, but Captain America didn’t _sleep on our couch_ , Darcy.”

“Yeah, is he gonna stay there tonight, too?” Elijah asked. “Because he’s pretty tall for our couch.”

Darcy chewed her lip in consideration. She wasn’t going to lie to them, but she didn’t want to break their excited little hearts either.

“Guys,” she finally said, “Clint only came to bring me home. He has to get back to New York, so he won’t be at the house when you get back.”

When she looked in the mirror again, the twins had identical looks of disappointment on their faces.

“But I thought he was your boyfriend!” Elijah shouted.

“Yeah, why’s he leaving? Thor stayed for two days when he came!” Ethan’s protests were even louder.

Darcy rolled her eyes as she pulled into the dropoff line. “He’s not my boyfriend, and it’s not like when Thor came. You guys will get over the disappointment, I promise.”

The twins didn’t look convinced in the slightest but climbed out of the car with a few grumbled goodbyes and headed into the building. 

She understood, really. The entire situation was nothing but a disappointment to her, too. It would have been ten times easier if Clint’s car hadn’t broken down. A nice, quick ‘see ya later’ as he dropped her off would have been much easier than the awkwardness she was bound to endure when she got back home. And now his leaving was going to disappoint her brothers, too.

Determined to delay the inevitable a little bit, Darcy decided to run a quick errand before she went to pick Clint up. Her dad had been exhausted when she’d gotten in last night but their talk had gone long enough that he’d mentioned he was almost out of the pain meds that the hospital had given him and needed to pick up the full prescription from the pharmacist. Their town was small enough that there wasn’t so much as a Walgreens or a Rite-Aid on a corner, just the local pharmacy that had been run by the same couple since Darcy was a little girl.

Not a thing had changed, either, on the inside or out. The bell still chimed way louder than necessary when she pushed the door open, the same bowl of hard candy sat near the cash register, and the same smiling face greeted her when she walked up to the counter.

“Darcy Lewis, is that you? In the flesh?” Tom made a big show of taking off his glasses and wiping them clean. He stuck them back on his face and squinted at her. “No, no, that can’t be. Our Darcy doesn’t come around much these days.”

“Ha ha ha,” Darcy deadpanned. “It’s good to see you too, Tom.”

“I mean it, I hardly recognize you! I guess that’s what happens when a certain someone goes _years_ without even dropping by for a simple hello.” 

Tom’s voice was playful but there was a note of truth there that made Darcy’s gut twist. She’d been home at least twice in the past year, but never for very long.

“Sorry, I know,” she said with a sheepish look. “I’ve been really busy. Work is crazy right now.”

“Work, sure,” Tom laughed and wagged his finger at her. “Your dad tells anyone who will listen that his little girl works for a supergenius. Say, how is New York, anyway?”

“It’s not so bad,” Darcy replied. She needed to stop Tom before he started grilling her about anything else, though. “Hey, I’m here to pick up dad’s meds. Any chance they’re ready?”

“Oh, sure, sure.” He turned and started to shuffle around to sort through some bags. When he turned back around, he set two bottles and a box down on the counter and started to ring them up. Darcy picked them up to read the labels. The box was a steroid pack, which she’d anticipated, and one of the bottles was the pain medication that he’d mentioned. But the third was a medication she didn’t recognize called amlodipine.

“Hey, Tom?” She held the bottle up. “What’s this one for? Dad only mentioned the two.”

He squinted at the bottle and then chuckled. “Blood pressure meds. Been tellin’ your dad to lay off the salt for years, but he doesn’t listen.”

Darcy smiled to acknowledge the joke but it was tight. Blood pressure medication. Of course Dad was on blood pressure meds and didn’t tell her. She fought down the rising irritation and paid for the medicine. Oblivious to her distress, Tom whistled while he bagged it up.

“There you go, sweetie. Hey, it’s real good to see you,” he said. “You gonna stick around for a while?”

Darcy thought of the medication in the bag and how her father had waited three days to tell her that he’d hurt himself. The guilt was poking at her again, white hot and uncomfortable in her gut. 

“Maybe.” She smiled as wide as she could and raised her hand in a wave. “See you later, Tom.”

The drive home wasn’t nearly long enough for her to properly seethe, so Darcy found herself stomping around a little when she walked inside. She found Dad in the living room, sitting with a pillow behind his back in his recliner and the television cranked way too loud.

She stepped in front of him to block his view of the tv and held up the bag from the pharmacy.

“Hey, pumpkin.” Dad brightened. “Thanks for pickin’ up my meds. I could use some of the good stuff right now.”

Darcy tossed the bag onto his lap. “You should probably take the other ones in there, too.” When he didn’t react right away, she pressed on. “You know, the blood pressure meds.”

Dad looked up at her with a groan. “Oh, Darcy.”

“You didn’t tell me you were on blood pressure medication!”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he sighed. “It runs in the family, honey. Your pappy dealt with the same thing his whole life. It’s not a big deal, honest.”

“What else aren’t you telling me?” Darcy was trying her absolute hardest not to sound like a petulant child.

Dad’s expression changed into something half-guilty and half-amused. “Well, since you asked... Mechanic called while you were out. Clint’s car won’t be fixed for a while and he’s gonna stay with us.”

Cold water right to the face.

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

“The boys can share a room so he doesn’t have to sleep on the couch. We got plenty of room here and he wants to stay. Told me so himself.”

“Is that right?” Darcy’s jaw clenched. “And where is he now?”

Dad shifted to point to the stairs and grimaced. “I told him to take Ethan’s room. Honey, it was my idea—”

“We are going to have a completely separate conversation about that,” Darcy cut him off with a look. “When I am finished talking to Clint. Take your meds, Dad.”

Without giving him a chance to protest, she thundered up the stairs and down the hall to Ethan’s bedroom at the end. She pushed the door open, words spilling out of her mouth before she even stepped fully in the door.

“We need to talk.”

Clint looked up at her from where he was standing near the bed with a bewildered expression. It took about three seconds for Darcy’s brain to catch up with her eyes and she realized that he was stark naked save for a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Can I get dressed first?” To his credit, Clint didn’t look bothered. He did reach down to make sure his towel was properly tucked, though, and her eyes tracked the movement. Tracked it all the way down his wet torso, past his abs to his Adonis belt. Shit, that just wasn’t fair. How was she supposed to be mad at him when he looked like _that_?

Determined, Darcy lifted her chin. Yeah, he was cut, but she was still mad.

“No, you can’t. What the hell are you doing?”

“I was taking a shower.” The ‘er’ was higher in pitch, like it was a question.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it,” Darcy ground out. There were water droplets clinging to the scruff on his face and it was distracting as all hell. “Why is my dad under the impression that you’re staying here until your car is fixed?”

“Because he told me to,” Clint said with a shrug. The towel loosened a fraction. “Didn’t really give me much of a choice about it.”

“Didn’t give you a choice? What are you, five years old? You can say no.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “But I don’t want to.”

Darcy blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean, you don’t want to?”

“I don’t want to leave.”

She would have thought he was kidding if it wasn’t for the look on his face. The words had come out all casual but he was staring at her intently, like he was trying to impress it on her just how serious he was.

“Why not?” Darcy demanded. 

The serious look slipped into something more wary and it made her pause. Every time they’d tried to have a conversation lately, every time they’d managed to get along for more than five minutes, it had gone south. Maybe she was still angry with him, but she was self-aware enough to know that it wasn’t completely his fault. 

She took a deep breath and tried again.

“Clint,” she said in a much gentler tone. “What are you getting at?”

He hesitated. “It’s gonna be a lot, you being here with your dad. Taking care of him and your brothers.”

Darcy nodded, fighting down the screaming urge to tell him yet again that she could handle it.

“You want to do some work for Jane, too,” he added. She narrowed her eyes, waiting for the shitty comment and ready to fire back, but it never came. “Let me take some of the load off.”

She stared at him, all blue-eyed and wet and basically naked in front of her. He wanted to stay. First he’d offered to drive her and now he wanted to stay.

Clint looked uncomfortable but charged on. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. I’ll get out of your hair and let you do this your way. But if you’ll let me… I want to stay.”

She wanted to ask him why again. Why he wouldn’t just leave it alone, why he wanted to be here when he was the one who’d shoved her away in the first place. The words got stuck in her throat, though. She didn’t have to ask. It was written all over his face, those earnest eyes watching her from under wet lashes.

She should say no. After all, they could barely hold a conversation without sniping at each other. He probably knew jack shit about taking care of kids and she had never seen him cook anything in the entire time she’d known him. How much help was he really going to be? 

Without the usual haze of anger clouding her judgement, Darcy’s defenses were down enough for that little voice to peek out.

_You don’t want to do this alone,_ it said. _You want him to stay._

“Darcy,” Clint said. He took a step closer to her, all rippling muscles and soft eyes.

Darcy closed her eyes. Maybe anger wasn’t clouding her judgment, but the water rolling down his chest was sure as fuck swaying her. “Fine,” she said. 

“Fine?” He parroted back, confused.

“You can stay.”

When she opened her eyes, he was right in front of her. One hand clutched the towel at his hip and the other hung loosely at his side, close enough to touch hers if she reached out even a little. She watched the realization bloom in his eyes, saw the hope give way to relief just before his lips curved in a crooked smile.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Darcy breathed. He was too close and his smile was too big. She could feel the warmth radiating off of him. Or maybe it was something else, because his smile was starting to turn mega-watt and she needed to get back before it burned her. “And if you’re staying, then we’re going grocery shopping, so you need to put some clothes on.”

Seriously, how was it possible for him to smile any wider?

“Sure thing,” he chuckled. When she didn’t move, he raised both eyebrows. “You want to hang around for the show?”

Darcy’s cheeks burned red in an instant. She backed out of the doorway and fumbled a little to start pulling the door closed behind her.

“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” she said with as much authority as she could muster. She could hear Clint chuckle and she could also hear the wet towel hit the hardwood with a soft thunk. 

Before her horny hamster brain could get any more good ideas, Darcy took off down the stairs and found her dad in the same spot in his recliner. The television was suspiciously quieter than it had been before, though, and he looked far too guilty for a man watching People’s Court.

“How’d your talk go?”

Darcy gave him a look. “He’s staying.”

Dad’s face lit up with a grin. “Excellent. We’re gonna need a coffee pot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you needed a visual of what poor Darcy was up against there at the end, here's Charlie Hunnam wrapped in a towel.
> 
> Could you say no to that smoldering at you? Didn't think so.
> 
> Gimme those kudos, y'all. Comments and cold coffee feed my muse. <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jane is Not Happy with Darcy's life choices, Elijah needs help with his homework, and the living room is overtaken with Nerf bullets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're gettin' into the fluff here, people. This chapter took up soooo much of my mental space for the last week and I'm glad it's finally out here. 
> 
> All the love, hugs, and Charlie Hunnam thirst traps to BoudicaMuse. She's a saint, you guys, and the best beta I could ever ask for.

Dad’s pantry left a lot to be desired, so the grocery trip ended up taking a significant portion of the day. Part of that was because the closest grocery store that carried more than the basics and didn’t cost an arm and a leg was forty-five minutes away. The other part was that Darcy had assumed she wouldn’t need a list, but it turned out that physically grocery shopping instead of using Instacart for everything took more time and effort than she’d had to expend in a few years. 

Clint had _tried_ to be helpful, she’d give him that, but he’d mostly just wandered the store with his hands in his pockets and occasionally made jokes about oddly shaped fruit. His big contribution to the trip had been reminding her to get more orange juice and staring way too long at the meager selection of coffee makers. Darcy had finally thrown up her hands, tossed the cheapest one into the cart, and threatened to leave him behind if he didn’t move his ass to the checkout line.

They’d mostly managed to avoid each other for the afternoon. Darcy took the opportunity to shower and then holed up in her room to look over the first section of Jane’s paper until it was time to pick up the boys from school, and Clint had been on the phone when she left, so she didn’t bother to ask if he wanted to ride along. They’d spent way too much time together in cars lately, anyway. Best to keep the time in a confined place to a minimum.

After a brief argument between Ethan and Elijah about whose room Clint was staying in, Darcy managed to get them settled at the table to do their homework while she made dinner. Spaghetti seemed basic but the boys were enthusiastic about it and Dad was asleep, so he didn’t get a vote. She didn’t bother asking Clint for his opinion. If he was going to stay in her house and mess up her mental equilibrium, the least he could do was eat her cooking without complaining.

She had enough complaining to deal with, since Elijah hadn’t stopped whining about his homework since the minute he’d sat down.

“Darcyyyyy,” he moaned for the eighth time in as many minutes. “I can’t do it!”

“‘Lijah, I already told you how to do it.” Darcy didn’t even bother to turn around this time. Second grade math was not her forte and Elijah had gotten irritated with her both times she’d tried to explain it.

“But I want to go play!”

“No,” Darcy said firmly. “Not until your homework is done. That’s the rule.”

“That’s not fair! Ethan’s getting to play with Clint!”

“Because he finished his homework!”

He still had more protests but Darcy mostly ignored them because she’d turned the burner up too high and now the sauce was sticking to the bottom of the pan. As soon as she got that settled, though, she realized that she’d forgotten to put the garlic bread in the oven. Shit, why had she put the sauce on first? The water for the noodles wasn’t even boiling yet. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

Elijah’s whining continued in the background while she moved the sauce to the back burner and put the garlic bread in. Darcy started to turn to ask him if he wanted her to try for a third explanation when her phone vibrated on the counter.

_Janey: Did you have a chance to look at any of that today?_

_Darcy: yeah I sent you some notes, check ur email_

_Janey: You’re the best!_

The water finally started boiling, so Darcy pulled out the box of noodles and let out a groan of frustration when the cardboard ripped all janky. She had to hook her finger under the flap to get it open and yelped when she ended up with a paper cut for her trouble.

“God _dammit_ ,” she muttered. After some struggling she managed to get the box open and the noodles thrown in the boiling water. She was about to check on Elijah when her phone dinged again.

_Janey: How was your road trip?_

“Darcy, I can’t do it!”

Closing her eyes, Darcy pressed her palms firmly to the counter to get her bearings. Irritation rose up and made her shoulders tense, but it wasn’t like she could take it out on her eight year old brother. It wasn’t his fault she’d given away all of her spoons and felt stuffed to the brim with forks.

“Okay, buddy, give me just a second.” She exhaled to get her bearings but all of her gathered patience went out the window as her phone screen lit up.

_Janey: Did you kill Barton? Do I need to help you hide his body?_

Darcy let out a groan and rubbed her hands over her face. When she lowered them, Clint was standing in the archway between the living room and the kitchen.

“Everything alright in here?”

Maybe it was impossible to convey _everything_ in a look, but judging by his expression, Darcy had managed it. He looked from the stove to her distraught face and over to Elijah, as though sizing up which obstacle to tackle first. Finally, he shrugged and sat down next to her brother.

“What’s up, kid? Homework got you down?”

“I can’t do it!” Elijah threw his pencil down on the table and crossed his arms. “It’s dumb. I don’t want to do it.”

Darcy turned back to the stove to give the noodles another stir and heat the sauce back up. If he wanted to toss himself into the fire then she wasn’t going to stop him. At least she wouldn’t have to hear her name called for a few minutes.

“I know it’s dumb,” Clint agreed. “But you still gotta do it, right?”

There was another grumble. Darcy had her back to them, but she could imagine Elijah’s little face pouting but nodding. She stirred the noodles a little more vigorously to work out another clump and tried very hard to act like she was not listening to their conversation.

“Listen, the sooner you get this done, the sooner we can break out those sweet Nerf guns you guys have. I’ll even be on your team if you finish before dinner,” Clint promised.

“I just don’t get it. I keep getting the little symbols mixed up,” Elijah said.

Darcy looked over her shoulder covertly to see Clint studying her brother’s homework with interest.

“Oh, this? This isn’t too bad. Here, let me show you,” he said while holding up his hands. “So the trick is to look at it like a mouth.”

Elijah looked confused. “What do you mean, a mouth?”

Spreading his thumb apart from his other fingers, Clint held his hand up higher for emphasis. “Think about it this way. If you’ve got eighty Skittles on one side and fifteen Skittles on the other, which one are you gonna eat? Eighty, right?”

“If I ate eighty Skittles I would get sick,” her brother said matter-of-factly. Darcy stifled a laugh.

“Yeah, but it’d be worth it, wouldn’t it?” She could hear the grin in Clint’s voice. He always sounded different when he was smiling. Lighter, somehow.

“I guess so,” Elijah sighed. “I just don’t understand any of this. Why is it so easy for Ethan? He’s been done forever.” There was a thunk on the table and Darcy didn’t look, but she was pretty sure he’d dropped his forehead to the wood. Dramatic as ever.

“I had a hard time with school, too. Didn’t even finish high school,” Clint said.

“What?” Darcy nearly dropped her spoon as she turned to face them, confused. “You were in the Army, though.”

Clint looked up and met her eyes, expression unreadable. “Yeah, I got my GED eventually. I’m not a complete idiot.”

She didn’t know what to say to that, so she turned back to the noodles and stirred them a little more vigorously. She’d always thought of Clint as intelligent, so it had never even occurred to her that he hadn’t finished high school, but as the idea rolled around in her brain it started to make sense with the bits and pieces she knew about him. He’d never been forthright with her about… well, _anything_ to do with his past, but she’d gotten the idea that his childhood hadn’t been easy. Pushing the issue had never been an option, though, because he shut down every time she tried.

The awkward moment was broken by Darcy’s phone going off. It was Jane again, but it wasn’t a text tone this time, it was full-on ringing. Shit. Darcy glanced at Clint and Elijah to ensure they’d be okay by themselves and then answered the call.

“What’s up, Jane?”

“You are terrible at answering text messages.”

“Dude, I’m making dinner! You know I shouldn’t text around pots of bubbling sauce, do you remember when I dropped my phone in that chili?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Darcy could practically see Jane dismissing her with that classic wave of her hands. “Anyway, tell me everything. How was your trip?”

She propped the phone between her ear and shoulder while she bent over to check the garlic bread in the oven. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Jane’s voice rose in pitch and Darcy wondered if she’d broken out the wine in her absence. She really only got pitchy like that when she drank or when Coulson came poking around. “You spent more than twelve hours in a car with your ex-boyfriend and all you have to say is _it was fine_?”

Darcy laughed nervously to cover her tracks. It would have been so much easier to do this over text message. Not that she wanted to lie to Jane about Clint being there, but what was she supposed to say? 

_Well, you see, his car’s broken and I could tell him to take a hike but he still looks really good in a towel and I decided to let him stay for two weeks._

Yeah, that wouldn’t go over well. Best to just keep it vague until she could figure out how to tell Jane the truth.

“Darcy? What the hell?”

“Sorry, I’m trying not to burn myself,” Darcy covered smoothly. “What did you say?”

“I want to know how your road trip of doom went! Was Barton a total asshole?”

Quickly, Darcy pressed the button on the side of her phone to turn down the volume. It wasn’t likely that Clint had his aids turned up high enough to hear Jane through the tiny speaker, and he seemed absorbed enough making alligator mouth hands with Elijah, but better safe than sorry.

“No, not really. He was actually—”

The room erupted in cheers suddenly, a loud mix of Elijah’s whooping and Clint’s deeper shout of excitement. 

“I got it!” Elijah yelled.

Clint held up both hands for high-fives. “Yeah, you did!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Jane’s voice got even more shrill in her ear. “Is he _there_?! Darcy!”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Like it could save her, Darcy busied herself with making sure the sauce was heating up again. That tactic was really only effective for face-to-face conversations, though, so she wasn’t immune to Jane’s wrath.

“The car broke down,” she said lamely.

“So tell him to get a hotel room!” Jane hissed. “What the hell is he doing staying at your dad’s house? Darcy, are you serious right now?”

“I’ve got it handled.”

“What does that even mean?!” Jane was ramping up to catastrophic levels of freakout. If Darcy had been home, she would have been grabbing her a blanket to wrap her up at this point. “You’re not seriously considering what I think you’re considering, are you?”

“No!” Darcy said a little too quickly, aware of Clint and Elijah finishing up at the table. “No, Jane. It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it like? Because I swear, if he messes with you again, I’m going to cut his balls off and blend them up and force feed him his own nut smoothie.”

“Jane!” She snorted out a laugh. “Look, I’ve gotta go. Dinner’s done.”

Jane harrumphed on the other end of the call. “This conversation is not over. I mean it, if he even _looks_ at you in a way you don’t like, I’ll have Thor there to crack his stupid blonde head open with Mjolnir.”

“And that is why I love you.” Darcy smiled. “Now go finish your wine. I’ll text you later if you’re not passed out cold by nine o’clock.”

When she hung up and turned around, Elijah was gone from the table but Clint was still sitting watching her with a curious expression.

“Foster checkin’ in?” His tone didn’t hint that he’d caught any of their conversation but Darcy still felt a little guilty about it. Here he was helping, just like he’d said he wanted to, and Jane was talking about neutering him or bashing his brains in. 

“Something like that.” She let a beat pass before deciding to just suck it up and say it. “Thanks. For helping Elijah.”

Clint shrugged. “No big deal. He had it, he just needed the right motivation.”

He was looking at her a little too long and she needed to focus on something else, anything else. She inclined her head towards the living room as she turned back to the stove. “Could you tell the boys that dinner’s ready? We need to set the table.”

Clint was silent for a long second. “Sure thing, Darce.” 

See? He was being helpful, that was all. Jane and her wine could go suck it.

* * *

Eight year olds were tricky, but pleasing two of them at once? That was downright impossible. One minute Clint had Elijah cheering and excited about dragging out every Nerf gun he owned, and the next minute he was faced with a pouting Ethan.

“How come you’re on his team?” 

“Because I promised. I don’t break promises.” Clint adjusted one of the cushions they’d stood up on end as a barrier for extra protection. They were wobbly, but they’d do. Besides, things were bound to get a little chaotic anyway, if Elijah’s constant bouncing was any indication.

When he looked at Ethan again, the kid had his arms crossed and his lower lip pushed out.

“It’s not fair!”

“Life’s not fair,” Elijah countered. He was behind one of the couch cushion walls loading all the guns with their proper foam bullets. “You’re just mad because I’m going to win!”

Clint huffed out a laugh. Cooking and math homework weren’t his strong suits, but this? Yeah, this he could handle. Two weeks of Nerf battles with Darcy’s brothers sounded like a piece of cake, honestly. He grabbed one of the small Nerf guns and went to check if it was fully loaded, but the stairs nearby creaked and distracted him.

“Whoa,” Darcy said as she hit the bottom step. “You guys are getting serious out here. I’m getting out of dodge.”

“Darcy!” Ethan lit up. “Wait, you can be on my team!”

“No, no. Sorry, buddy, I can’t play right now. I’ve got dishes that need done and stuff. You can take ‘em all by yourself, though.”

If anyone ever, ever asked Clint, he’d swear it was the look of disappointment on Ethan’s face that did him in. It most definitely wasn’t the sway in Darcy’s hips as she walked away that made him raise the toy pistol and shoot her. The foam dart bounced off of her left ass cheek, right on target. He wasn’t nearly close enough for it to be a forceful hit, but the little yelp she gave was satisfying anyway.

“Excuses, excuses,” he teased. “Sounds to me like somebody’s just a giant chicken.”

Darcy turned to face him with an incredulous look. The adorable little crease between her eyebrows told him he wasn’t off the hook for shooting her in the ass, either. 

“Did you just call me a chicken?”

There was a chorus of _oooooo_ from the twins followed by a round of bawking noises.

Clint grinned. “Maybe. You gonna prove me wrong?”

He half-expected her to brush him off, to roll her eyes or glare at him and stalk into the kitchen. What he wasn’t expecting was that crease between her eyebrows to smooth out or for her to cross the room and grab a gun from the stockpile Elijah had been working on.

“You better get behind your barricade, Barton,” she threatened. “Because we’re about to take you down.”

“I’m shakin’ in my boots,” Clint assured her as he ducked behind the cushion barricade with Elijah. “Come on, kid, we gotta hit ‘em hard. Failure’s not an option.”

The rules were established as they got their guns and set up. The coffee table in the middle of the living room was the dividing line. Passing it meant being automatically disqualified. Darcy argued that they should be allowed ten hits instead of five before being called Out, which didn’t surprise Clint in the slightest. He’d taken her to the range once and she hadn’t managed to hit the paper target with a single bullet, so he doubted toy guns were going to be much different. 

Elijah picked one of the rifle-style guns and Clint slung the strap of a truly monstrous plastic machine gun over his neck. It was bulky and clumsy enough that he’d be giving up some of his advantage without truly taking it easy on Ethan and Darcy. No way was he going to let them win. No, he had his pride to protect.

They counted down from five and the twins shouted “GO!” at the same time and suddenly, the air was full of little foam bullets. Elijah had his tongue stuck out as he fired shot after shot, but his efforts were in vain. Ethan and Darcy were both hidden behind their row of couch cushions and even if they were being hit, there was no way to tell.

“Hey.” Clint nudged him until he stopped shooting and crouched down close. “Stay down for a minute. Let them think they’re safe.”

“Right,” Elijah whispered back. “Then we’ll get ‘em, right?”

Clint nodded and held a finger to his lips, staying crouched low and ducking his head to stay mostly hidden. The couch cushions were huge, which helped, but he was still a pretty big target if either of them stood up at all.

“Where’d they go?” He heard Ethan ask.

“It’s probably a trick,” Darcy said. “Just give it a second.”

Clint grinned and gestured to Elijah. Maybe he didn’t know much about eight year olds, but he knew kids were impatient as hell. Sure enough, Darcy called out again a few seconds later.  
“Ethan, get down!”

“Now!” Clint mouthed to Elijah. They both jumped up from behind the wall of cushions and started firing. Ethan squealed when the first and second darts hit him and dropped to the floor behind his cushion. 

“Darcy, help!”

“I’m trying!” Her head popped up over the wall. “We need to spread out!”

Chaos descended from there. Ethan ran and took another two bullets on his way to hide behind the staircase. It gave him an angle to shoot behind their barricade, though, so Clint and Elijah were forced to separate. Clint took cover behind the loveseat with no clue where his partner ended up.

Darcy wasn’t nearly as stealthy or forward-thinking as either of her brothers, who had both up and vanished into thin air at this point. She was still sitting behind the barricade, head peeking over the cushions as her eyes darted around the room looking for a target. Easy pickings. Clint hit her once, twice, a third time before she squealed and hunkered back down.

“Head shots are not allowed!”

Clint laughed. “Then duck!”

She tried to hit him but all of her darts bounced off of the wall four feet above his head or the carpet close to his feet. He had to stifle another round of laughter when he heard her growl.

The sudden torrent of bullets coming from behind the stairs and underneath an end table gave away the twins’ positions. Clint caught sight of Ethan behind the spindles on the staircase and raised his gun to shoot him. Nothing happened except a loud thunk and Clint swore under his breath. Jammed.

It didn’t matter, though, because somebody else hit Ethan with five darts in rapid succession.

“Darcy! We’re on the same team!”

“Shi- _shoot_ , sorry, buddy!” 

Elijah’s head popped out from under the end table. “Ethan’s out! That was ten hits, I counted.”

“That doesn’t count!” Ethan protested. “A bunch of those were from Darcy!”

“She still hit you!”

“That’s not fair! I want a new teammate, Darcy sucks!” 

Darcy made an indignant noise. “Hey!”

Clint was pretty sure he deserved an award for not laughing so many times when he really, really wanted to. A gold star, brownie points, something.

“Alright, alright,” he said as he got to his feet. “We’ll switch teams.”

“Do I get to be on your team?” Ethan looked hopeful. Man, he really hated to break the kid’s spirit.

“Nah, I think somebody needs to help Darcy. I’ll be on her team.” He scrambled to soften the blow when both boys groaned. “Besides, you’re the Gruesome Twosome, right? We don’t stand a chance against you guys.” 

The compliment worked because the boys whooped and headed off to reload their guns. When he turned to look at Darcy, she had her eyes narrowed at him.

“I’m not that bad.”

Clint grinned and ducked behind the barricade with her. “Sure, Darce. Whatever you say.”

After a gun swap and some furniture maneuvering, the next few rounds went a lot smoother. Clint didn’t show any mercy, which was for the best considering Darcy couldn’t land a single shot. Most of her darts ended up suctioned to the ceiling or littering the floor in No Man’s Land. The twins were actually pretty good, but even worse, they were sneaky as hell and he was still having a hard time telling them apart. More than once, he thought he’d gotten one of them out only to have the other dart out from their hiding spot and shoot him in the chest.

Even if he was carrying the team, it was nice to have Darcy taking shots at somebody other than him for once. If she was annoyed that he’d weaseled his way into being her partner, she wasn’t showing it, either. Clint glanced over at her while he popped a few stray darts into his gun and noticed her fumbling to reload her own pistol. 

Her hair was a curtain between them, blocking her face from his view until she swept it behind her ear with a quick, impatient movement. Her eyebrows were furrowed together and her teeth were pressed deep into her full bottom lip, holding it in place until her tongue darted out to wet it. He stopped loading his gun, transfixed when she worried her lip between her teeth again. 

Why was she always doing that? So many times, he’d put his thumb on her chin and pulled her lip free, told her he was the only one allowed to bite her. Left her lips swollen and red from kissing her until neither of them could breathe. 

The dull _thunk_ of the toy trigger registered a fraction of a second before pain bloomed above Clint’s left eye. His head snapped back in surprise and he blinked, pulled from his self-indulgent trip down memory lane.

“Yes! Got him!” Ethan whooped loudly, standing not two feet away from him. When the hell had he gotten so close? 

Going for a sheepish look, Clint got to his feet to give the kid a high-five. “Yeah, you got me. Good game.”

“You weren’t even paying attention!” He crowed happily.

“Nah, I got distracted. Was trying to reload my gun,” Clint explained, avoiding looking at Darcy. The guilty look on his face would give him away completely and he was already pushing his luck with her today.

The twins kept cheering and hooting until Darcy cleared her throat.

“Alright, alright, you finally got Clint. I think it’s about time we clean up and get ready for baths. We can play some more tomorrow.”

Relieved, Clint tossed Elijah his toy gun and started picking up some of the darts scattered around the rug while the boys drug the pile of guns upstairs to their rooms. At least Darcy hadn’t noticed him staring. If he was going to have a snowball’s chance in hell to make things right, his southern brain was going to need to take a backseat for a little while.

“Hey, Hawkeye.”

He looked up in time to catch a couch cushion to the face and wondered how in the holy fuck he’d been taken by surprise twice in five minutes by members of the Lewis family. Darcy’s smug look told him she was thinking the exact same thing.

“Try not to get distracted next time,” she said.

And then she bit her fucking lip. 

Well, shit. So much for being a master at stealth. Natasha was going to be so disappointed in him if she ever found out. Which, thankfully, was never going to happen.

Caught red handed, Clint leaned into the teasing instead of away from it. He picked up a throw pillow and launched it at her. “Don’t be so distracting next time, then. Maybe we’ll actually win.”

Darcy caught the pillow and hugged it to her stomach. Her lips curved into a genuine smile that flashed all of her teeth and sent his gut on a roller coaster ride. “Yeah, maybe.”

Her smile was burned into his brain, even when she walked away. It had been so long since Darcy had looked at him that way and he’d managed to get it out of her in less than forty-eight hours. If this was what it took to get back in her good graces, he’d make himself look like a damn idiot anytime.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're enjoying the ride into Fluff Town, kudos are always appreciated and comments are utterly delightful. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy visits with Cathy and the Lewis clan has a bonfire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guyssss. This chapter about killed me, but here she is. So much fluff abound. You’ve been warned!
> 
> Beta’d as usual by BoudicaMuse, my literal rock. xoxo

Four days wasn’t long in the grand scheme of things, but it was plenty long enough for Darcy to get restless. Maybe Stark Tower was a beacon for chaos most of the time, but at least it was interesting. Here at home, all of Darcy’s excitement came from arguing with the boys about getting ready for school.

Even Clint had more to do than she did. It was still early in the season but her dad had already convinced him to winterize their camper and fix some shoddy boards on the front porch. Clint never complained, either. In fact, she was pretty sure he was currently adjusting the porch swing since it had been hanging kind of crooked. All in all, he seemed pretty chipper about having something to do when he wasn’t entertaining the twins in the afternoons.

Darcy, on the other hand, was ready to tear her hair out. After finding herself seriously considering reorganizing Dad’s bookshelf, she called it quits and grabbed her keys. She’d promised to help Cathy out, after all, and now seemed as good a time as any. 

“Hey,” she said as she headed out the front door. Clint looked up, still holding up one side of the wooden swing with the rope dangling.

“Going somewhere?”

“I’m gonna go help Cathy. Boys have football practice tonight, so I’ll just take them straight there when I’m done.” 

“Your dad said something about a bonfire tonight.” Clint went back to his task, threading the rope through the arm of the swing. 

“Yep. I’ll get some s’mores stuff while I’m out, too.” God, was she really going to have to ask him this? “Are you going to be okay for a few hours by yourself?”

Clint’s eyes flicked back to her, amused smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Your dad’s upstairs. We’ll probably watch tv when he wakes up, so I’ll be fine. But thanks for the concern.”

Darcy rolled her eyes at him. “My only concern is you working with power tools. I don’t want to have to explain your untimely demise to Natasha, so try not to kill yourself, okay?”

“I’ll do my best.” His smile widened enough that his eyes crinkled at the corners. Darcy’s stomach fluttered and she jumped off the porch to get to her car before she could say anything else to make him flash his teeth at her.

Cathy’s shop was on the main road in town, only a ten minute drive from dad’s house. The sign on the front door was flipped to indicate that she was gone for deliveries, but when Darcy walked around the alley in the back, Cathy’s work van was still parked there and she was loading it up.

“Do you need a hand?”

Cathy jumped, her hand pressed over her heart when she spun around. “Darcy! Good lord, child, you gave me a heart attack.”

Darcy smiled guiltily and held out her hands. “I’ll make it up to you?”

“I’m not going to say no to free labor,” Cathy laughed. “You want to help me load up?”

“Actually, I was thinking I’d come with you. I did promise I’d do some deliveries for you. Since you rescued me and Clint in the middle of the night and all.”

“Bored to tears at your dad’s, huh?”

Darcy nodded solemnly. 

“Alright then, let’s load up and we can catch up on the drive.”

The van was already half-loaded and it took the two of them just a few minutes to finish carefully putting the rest of the arrangements in the back. Cathy insisted on driving, so Darcy climbed into the passenger seat and switched on the radio to the old country station that was her dad’s favorite.

“It’s real good to see you, sweetie,” Cathy said as she pulled onto the highway. Their first delivery was in a town about twenty miles away and it was easier to start there and backtrack than save it for last. “It’s been too long since you’ve come home for more than a few days. Your dad’s missed you.”

Darcy sighed. “I know. I really need to try and make it home more often.”

“Don’t get me wrong, he’s got a good handle on things. But he’s such a stubborn man.” 

“Tell me about it,” Darcy said dryly.

Cathy smiled at her indulgently. “Runs in your family. Your mom was the same way, bullheaded as all get out.”

Warmth spread through all of Darcy’s limbs. When Dad talked about Mom too much it made her eyes burn, but hearing Cathy mention her never felt like a eulogy. It just felt like getting to say hello again.

“Hey, speaking of bullheaded...how long has dad been on that blood pressure medication?” Darcy asked, positive that Cathy already knew. The sigh she got in response just proved her right.

“Seven months. Eight, maybe? He swears up and down it runs in the family, but I know his diet’s got something to do with it.”

Darcy frowned. “Is it that bad?”

“He just doesn’t have time.” Cathy’s face was screwed up in concentration as she passed a slow-moving eighteen wheeler. “He’s never been a good cook and I think after working all day and then shuffling the boys around, he’s just tired. I make meals when I can and bring them over, but…”

A wave of nausea rolled through Darcy’s stomach and settled there as she remembered the poorly stocked pantry. Maybe in the grand scheme of things, Dad’s poor diet wasn’t the worst thing in the world. But she couldn’t stand the idea that he was struggling so much that he couldn’t even manage to cook for the boys.

“Hey, now,” Cathy said admonishingly, as though reading the guilt on Darcy’s face. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. Your dad and those boys are gettin’ along just fine, and you know I’m not gonna let him grease himself to death.”

Darcy smiled weakly, unconvinced. “Yeah, I know.”

The van changed lanes again and for a moment, the only sounds were the engine and the click of the blinker. Then Cathy piped up again.

“So, tell me. Is there any reason in particular that young man is sleeping in your brother’s bed and not yours?”

“Cathy!” Darcy gaped at her. 

“What?!” If she had any sense of shame, it sure as hell wasn’t showing with the shit-eating grin on her face. “Your father’s a very forward-thinking man, I’m sure he’d be alright with it happening under his roof.”

“There’s no _it_ happening! It’s not like that.”

Cathy made a disgruntled noise. “Maybe it should be like that. That Clint is a fine looking man, Darcy. If I were thirty years younger…”

If Darcy’s eyes got any wider, they were liable to pop right out of her head. “Cathy!”

“I mean it, young lady.” The shameless grin was back with a vengeance. “You give me one good reason why you aren’t with that boy anymore.”

Darcy clasped her hands together in her lap and took a breath. “It didn’t work out.”

Cathy cast a suspicious look at her. “There’s a lot to unpack there. Go on, start at the beginning.”

“You mean when we met? It wasn’t anything dramatic,” Darcy said. “He helped me move my stuff into Stark Tower when me and Jane started working there.”

It all came back to Jane and the spectacle they’d made in the unloading zone with all of their equipment. Thor had been all too happy to load up case after case and lug them upstairs, but he was Jane’s muscle, not Darcy’s. Darcy’s muscle had shown up ten minutes later to chuckle when she tried to pull three suitcases into the elevator by herself and got one wedged in the door. 

He’d smiled at her with those blue eyes and told her maybe the stairs would be easier, and that had been it. After that, she was a goner. Or had been, anyway.

“Your dad was always worried about you datin’ a superhero,” Cathy said, breaking into her thoughts again. “But every time you called, whenever you talked about Clint, you were just so happy.”

More memories rose to the surface while Darcy thought of something to say to that. Yeah, she’d been happy. Clint made her laugh more than any person she’d ever been with. She’d liked going to barbeques at his place in Bed-Stuy and mingling with his eccentric tenants. She’d liked meeting him for lunch in the lobby of the Tower when she could sneak away. There had been countless afternoons when they could grab tacos from a food truck and Clint would throw his shoe at gathering crowds of pigeons to keep Darcy from being swarmed over a dropped piece of tortilla.

“I was,” Darcy finally conceded. 

“So what happened?” Cathy asked bluntly. “You were happy. Now he’s here, and I don’t care what you say, that boy is not here just to help wrangle your brothers. So what’s the big speed bump?”

Again, Darcy was at a loss for words.

_Clint lied to me. He ran away when shit got tough instead of just talking to me. He never even tried._

Except that wasn’t the whole truth. She’d been telling herself for months that it was, but it wasn’t. The truth was somewhere in the middle of Clint’s guilt and her own, lost in the murk of frustration and miscommunication. If she told Cathy even a fraction of it, she’d be able to suss it out, and Darcy wasn’t ready for that talk. She barely knew what to make of it herself and Cathy wasn’t known for holding back her opinions. 

“It just… didn’t. We’re just not,” Darcy said finally.

Cathy frowned and opened her mouth like she wanted to argue, but she’d already parked the van and Darcy recognized the house they had pulled up to. 

“Hey, I haven’t seen the Jensens in forever!” She pasted a bright smile on her face and unbuckled her seatbelt. “Let me get this one.”

She climbed out of the van and shut the door on Cathy’s confused expression, wishing she could do the same to her own conflicted heart.

* * *

The wind had picked up a little but since he was standing by a now blazing fire, Clint was sweating. He’d actually been in almost a permanent state of sweat all day, with the unusually warm weather and all the outdoor chores he’d been doing for Darcy’s dad. It was something to pass the time and make him feel useful, though, so he didn’t mind.

By the time Clint got the fire started, with a surprisingly small amount of backseat firepoking from Paul, the stash of firewood was basically out. Since Darcy and the twins were setting up s’mores stuff, it seemed like a good time to go grab some more from the spot behind the shed.

“Where are you going?”

Clint turned his head to find one of the twins walking towards him. Fuck, which one was it? He squinted at the kid’s shirt, trying to remember which one had squirted ketchup all over himself at dinner. Ethan. He was pretty sure it was Ethan.

“Just gonna go get some more wood,” he said.

“Can I come?” 

“You’re not chopping anything,” Clint told him, amused when his face fell ever so slightly. “But you can help carry it if you want.”

No protests there. The kid scrambled to keep up with Clint’s big strides on the short walk to the setup behind the shed. He caught him eyeing the axe as he picked it up, but no way in hell was he going to hand Darcy’s eight year old brother an axe and let him go to town.

“No way, buddy. You’re only here for the carrying. We gotta work up those muscles of yours.”

He grabbed one of the big logs and set it onto the stump nearby, managing to chop it in half with two swings. He set the axe down to grab the pieces and hand them to Ethan, a little baffled to find him with a frown.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Ethan said, nearly dropping the pieces of wood when Clint stacked them on his outstretched forearms. “Maybe if I was as big as you the other kids would leave me alone.”

Alarm bells went off in Clint’s head, loud and clear. He made sure Ethan was steady with the wood before turning back to chop another log.

“A lot of those kids are bigger than you, huh?” He asked between swings, voice casual.

Ethan nodded.

“I take down guys bigger than me all the time,” Clint said with the same casual tone. As casual as he could be while throwing all of his weight into an axe, anyway. “It’s not about size, not really. You just gotta go for their legs.”

“That really works?” The kid looked dubious. 

Clint chuckled and scooped up the wood he’d split, stacked one more small piece in Ethan’s arms and squeezed his shoulder when his hand was freed up. “Yeah, it works. Every time. Come on, let’s go put this wood by the fire.”

There was some unintelligible shouting that became clearer the closer they got to the ring of camping chairs in the backyard. Everyone was sitting except for Paul, who stood behind Cathy’s chair and was laughing at something Cathy and Darcy were talking about. Elijah swung around a metal roasting stick, brandishing his completely black marshmallow at them with a shout of excitement.

“Look, I cooked it!”

Elijah’s enthusiasm about roasting marshmallows was apparently contagious, because Ethan dumped his armful of firewood a good ten feet away from the pit and left Clint behind to pick it up and stack it neatly. He dusted his hands off on his jeans when he was done and headed over to sit down just as another gust of wind blew through the yard. It wasn’t overly strong but Darcy, clad in a short sleeve t-shirt, shivered and shrunk down in her chair with her arms wrapped around herself.

Clint reached over without thinking to grab the hoodie he’d thrown onto a chair earlier and held it up. “Here, take it.”

Darcy looked at the hoodie, locked eyes with him, and crossed her arms tighter. “I’m fine. It’s just the wind.”

“Which wouldn’t be a problem if you just put a jacket on,” Clint said. 

She narrowed her eyes at him and he did his level best not to smile too wide. Maybe he was pushing it, but damn she was cute when she was irritated with him. 

“I’m not cold,” she insisted. “I’ll be fine.”

Clint rolled his eyes and threw the hoodie at her, his grin breaking free at the indignant noise she made. “Just put it on, Darce.”

She grumbled and slipped her arms into the hoodie and zipped it up while Clint held his breath. He had tried to mentally prepare himself for the sight but it still wasn’t enough. Seeing her in his clothes was still enough to bring him to his knees. He settled into the chair next to her, desperate for something to distract himself so he wouldn’t focus on the way she seemed to burrow into his damn sweater. 

“You gettin’ cold, Cathy?” Paul asked, drawing Clint’s attention to the other side of the fire pit. 

“Yeah, a little.” Cathy shrugged. “No big deal, I can go grab a jacket from my place.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Paul started to pull his jacket off but his pain medication must have been wearing off because he winced and struggled. His arm caught in one sleeve and he nearly beaned Cathy in the head trying to get it out. He managed it, though, and draped it over Cathy’s shoulders. Clint’s eyes tracked his hands and the way they lingered. He wasn’t blind to the looks exchanged between the two either, the fond smile on Cathy’s face and the blush partially obscured by Paul’s beard.

Clint looked over at Darcy, who was totally absorbed in roasting another marshmallow and hadn’t noticed a single thing. Huh. Well, if she hadn’t noticed the flirt fest going on, he wasn’t going to be the one to bring it to her attention.

“You boys getting excited for your field trip?” Cathy asked.

The boys groaned in unison. “It’s just the pumpkin patch,” Ethan said.

“Yeah, we go every year. It’s stupid,” Elijah agreed around a mouthful of chocolate and graham cracker.

“Aw come on, the pumpkin patch is great!” Darcy enthused. “And I’m gonna be there!”

Her excitement didn’t catch on in the slightest. In fact, Clint was pretty sure the twins looked even less eager than before. 

“Hey, wait.” Elijah’s little chocolate-smeared face lit up. “If you’re coming, can Clint come?” 

Clint paused mid-grab for a roasting stick. “I don’t think that’s something that I can just tag along with, buddy.”

“Oh, I think that sounds like a wonderful idea!” Cathy smiled at him through the haze of smoke. “You could volunteer to chaperone. The school’s always looking for volunteers, aren’t they, Paul?”

Paul agreed and the boys broke into a round of cheers.

“Please! Please please please! It would be so cool if you came!” Ethan begged, his hands clasped together.

Clint had a sneaking suspicion that the coolest part of him tagging along would be the concrete proof that the twins actually _knew_ Hawkeye. He was probably going to be gawked at like a show pony and honestly, trampling around a pumpkin patch with a bunch of second graders was pretty low on his list of ways to have a good time. He was also acutely aware of Darcy staring at him, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

But the boys were wide-eyed and hopeful and how could he break their little hearts?

“You know what, sure,” he said. “Don’t I have to pass a background check or something?”

“Yeah, you do.” Darcy sighed, clearly resigned to the idea. She stopped eyeballing him to smush her marshmallow between two graham crackers and he counted himself lucky that she hadn’t put up more of a fight to him volunteering without asking her. “I’ll get an extra form tomorrow from the teacher.”

They settled in as the sky darkened and the temperature dipped, keeping warm by the fire and listening to country music on the old boombox that Cathy had dragged over from her place. Paul and Cathy entertained him with stories about Darcy growing up. She started off protesting loudly with each one, but when they told him about the time she climbed a tree to save their family cat and got stuck in the branches herself, she laughed louder than anyone.

The boys talked Clint into sharing stories, too. He had to censor himself a little but the twins hung on his every word. They especially liked hearing about the Doombots and anything to do with Cap using his shield to take down bad guys. He tried not to be _too_ jealous that they still thought Steve was cooler than he was, but the feelings evaporated when Elijah asked Paul if he could start taking archery lessons. Fucking take that, Cap.

Just around the time Clint’s legs started to go stiff in the rickety camping chair, Paul yawned and Cathy badgered him about going inside.

“Can you two handle the boys?” She asked, pointing to the twins passed out in their chairs.

Darcy nodded and stood up, tossing their leftover garbage into the fire. “We’ve got it. Go ahead and get Dad inside.”

Clint stood up and stretched, made sure the garbage was taken care of before throwing a bucket of water on the coals to put them out. Darcy insisted that they could leave the chairs outside so he shrugged and scooped up one of the twins, adjusting the kid until his head laid on his shoulder. Yellow shirt with a ketchup stain. Had to be Ethan.

“You got that one?” He eyed Darcy as she bent to pick up Elijah. It was dark, but he wasn’t going to pass up a chance to look at her ass.

Darcy huffed but got her brother situated. “Yeah, I got him.”

Luckily, the yard wasn’t huge so the walk inside didn’t take long, but Clint heard her breathing hard the whole way. He felt bad but knew she’d just snipe at him if he told her to wait at the bottom of the stairs, so he walked behind her instead. At least this way if she fell, he could try and catch her and the kid before they hit the ground.

Darcy disappeared into Elijah’s room to lay him down and Clint waited in the hallway, not wanting to get in her way in the small space. When she came back out, she held her arms out.

“Here, I got him,” she whispered, reaching for Ethan.

Clint shook his head at her and waved her off. “I got it. No worries, baby.”

He carried her brother in and settled him on the air mattress on the floor. Both boys were still dressed in their school clothes, but changing them into pajamas sounded like a battle no one wanted to fight, so Clint just pulled Ethan’s shoes off and called it good.

He stepped back out into the hallway, confused to see Darcy still standing there with a weird look on her face. Then it hit him. Oh, fuck. Had he called her _baby_?

“Shit, sorry,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just habit, I guess.”

Darcy’s expression changed, her grin sharp and teasing even in the darkness. “It’s fine.”

Thank God. He wasn’t ready to be crucified for a slip of the tongue like that, no matter how natural it had felt. 

“Okay, well… goodnight.”

“Yeah, goodnight. _Babe_.” Darcy smirked at him with a little wave and then disappeared into her room.

Relief and amusement and affection swelled up inside him. It was so dizzying that it took Clint’s brain a few moments to catch up and he realized belatedly that she’d gone into her room still wearing his hoodie. Between that and the way she’d smirked at him, he would be lucky if he managed to get any sleep at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This past week was my birthday, so if you’re feeling generous, I’d love kudos and comments as a belated gift! 😉
> 
> Also, check out this gorgeous manip that Dresupi made of Charlie Hunnam as Clint! It's perfect and I love it so much.
> 
>   
> 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Saturday is football day! Clint talks to Natasha and shares his coffee, Darcy sees an old friend and tells a lie, and Ethan takes matters into his own hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiii. This chapter should have been posted four days ago, but I hit a serious case of writer's block and then the world started to end and life... is life. But I made it! And do you guys want to know a secret? Chapter nine is already written! Some light editing and it'll be posted later this week.
> 
> As always, thanks to my sun and stars, BoudicaMuse, for betaing for me and listening to me bitch about my inability to write for the last week.

Whatever genius had decided to hold a kids’ football game at nine the morning on a Saturday was seriously on Clint’s shit list. It was bad enough that the warm weather had stalled out and given way to grey skies and a permeating chill to the air, but he’d also woken up late with no chance to make coffee before they’d rushed out of the house to get the boys to the field on time. Thankfully, Cathy took pity on him and pointed out the concession stand the minute they arrived so he could get in line.

“Go on, I’ll find you,” he said, waving Darcy off when she opened her mouth. It wasn’t like the high school stadium was _that_ big and besides, they were already a little late and needed to get the twins down to the field.

The band booster mom at the concession table squinted at him when he handed her his dollar. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Probably not,” Clint replied, expression neutral. It wouldn’t be far-fetched for someone to recognize him, but… shit. Too early. Not enough caffeine. “Just here for a visit.”

“Hmm.” She kept looking over her shoulder at him while she poured coffee into a styrofoam cup. “You just look so familiar…”

“I get that a lot.” He smiled as wide as he could and took the coffee from her, clutching it like a lifeline. “Thanks.”

She had more to say, but thank the fucking heavens, his phone started ringing and gave him a pass to walk away without looking too rude. Clint blew into the tiny spout in the lid of his coffee as he dug his phone from his pocket. What the fuck was Natasha doing calling him this early?

“You should be talking to my voicemail right now,” he answered, debating if it was worth it to take a drink and scorch his tongue.

“Please. You’re staying with eight year olds, I doubt they sleep in on the weekends.” Jesus, he could practically hear her rolling her eyes. “Good morning to you, too.”

Clint walked away from the concession stand and through one of the tunnels to the stadium, eyeballing the bleachers to look for the yellow knit hat Darcy was wearing. “What do you need? ‘Cause I’m on vacation. Made it all official with Cap and everything.”

“You didn’t reply to my text last night. I wanted to make sure you saw it.”

He frowned, still searching the stands and feeling more and more like a dumbass just standing there with his phone to his ear. “You mean that weird link to some movie? What was that about?”

“Darcy really likes that actor. Tom Hiddleston.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Nat.”

“Just making sure you have the right information.”

Aha. There was Darcy’s hat. Luckily they weren’t too far up, probably so Paul didn’t have to climb all those stairs. Clint headed that way, moving slowly so he didn’t look like an asshole walking up and talking on his cell phone. “How do you even know that?”

“We’re friends,” Natasha said sweetly. “I’ve taken her to lunch. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

God damn her. “I’ve got it handled. How’s Lucky?”

“Drooling all over my throw pillows. And if you had it handled, I wouldn’t need to tell you to take her to the movies.”

Clint reached the bleachers where Darcy and her family were sitting just as the speakers mounted in the stadium crackled to life and everyone started cheering. Now he was a _double_ asshole, taking too long to get his coffee and talking on the phone while the game was starting.

“I gotta go. Send me some Lucky pictures later,” he said, inching his way past a group of parents with their faces painted. Way too intense for a peewee league, but who was he to judge?

“Wait, where are you? What’s all that noise?” 

“Football game. Nat, I gotta _go_.”

“Oh, her brothers play football! How domestic. Aren’t you just adorable?” Natasha sounded positively delighted. “Are you going to cheerlead for them, too?”

“Bye, Nat,” Clint said dryly, hanging up before she could give him any more shit. Guaranteed his phone was going to be lit up with text messages when this was over, but he could ignore those. He finished squeezing past the row of excited parents and sat down on the bleachers next to Darcy.

She perked an eyebrow at him. “Everything alright?”

“Yep, all good.” Clint turned his attention out to the field. “What’d I miss?”

“Not much. They’re still setting up.” She talked louder so he could hear her over the booming voice of the announcer over the speaker. It wasn’t like he knew a _ton_ about football, but Clint was still pretty sure the crowd was taking this incredibly seriously for a group of eight year olds. Small town life, maybe? Nothing better to do on a Saturday.

He sipped his coffee and looked down at the field, trying to spot Ethan or Elijah in the swarm of kids in navy blue and gold uniforms. They weren’t hard to find, considering the stadium wasn’t that big and they were among the kids who hadn’t put their helmets on yet. Something seemed off, though.

“Hey,” Clint said to Darcy, nudging her. “Are those other kids the same age as the twins? Because they’re huge.”

She squinted in the direction he gestured and frowned. “I don’t know. They are really big, aren’t they?”

“That’s the point,” Paul said on Darcy’s other side. “My boys are small and fast. The other kids are there to protect ‘em.”

He was right, but Clint was still stuck on it. Probably because the tallest kid on the team was standing near both boys, running his mouth from as much as Clint could see. Whatever he was saying wasn’t great, because one of the twins was looking pointedly away and the other shoved his helmet on and stalked off. There was the Bully Radar again, loud and clear. But wasn’t this kid supposed to be on their team?

Darcy looked just as concerned as he did, but the game was starting and the twins were lost in the huddle. Clint made a mental note to work in another casual chat with Ethan. It wasn’t really his place to be concerned, but he didn’t like the idea of the kid being picked on. 

The game picked up momentum quickly and it became apparent that yeah, everyone in the stands was taking the game seriously. Parents cheered and blew air horns and yelled at the coaches. It felt ridiculous, but it was only halfway through the first quarter when Clint found himself caught up in the excitement. His shouts were almost as loud as Paul’s when their team scored their first touchdown and he didn’t even care when Cathy and Darcy made fun of them.

“Having fun?” Darcy asked when the crowd settled again. Clint looked over at her, narrowing his eyes when he saw his coffee cup clutched in her hand. 

“My caffeine. Gimme.”

She smiled sweetly at him and took a long drink. “Mine now.”

Clint reached for the cup and sighed when she held it up in the air. “Don’t make me do this, Darcy.”

“Do what, exactly?” She widened her eyes at him, stretching her arm higher. It wasn’t like he couldn’t reach it, but the opportunity was just too good to pass up. He tickled her side, just a few swipes of his fingers through her jacket, but it was enough to make her giggle and squirm. Fuck, she was cute.

The squirming put the coffee back in his reach and he pried it from her hand with a victorious grin. “Mine.”

“Whatever.” She huffed. “It’s got my germs all over it now.”

“Yeah, I don’t really care.” He took a drink and smacked his lips with a satisfied sound. “Your germs don’t bother me.”

Darcy blinked several times in rapid succession, something like heat flickering in her eyes before it disappeared. “You’ve got, um… on your mouth?”

At first he thought she meant he had coffee in his stubble, but then he looked down at the cup. She’d left a lipstick print on the white lid. A nice little mark indicating where her mouth had been. Where his mouth had just been. Surprise gave way to _holy shit_ , which then snowballed into embarrassment. He was a grown man. He’d kissed Darcy Lewis in far filthier places than her mouth, and yet. Drinking from the same cup was apparently enough to rev his engine.

He wanted to make a dumb joke about it being his color, or maybe about it not being the first time he’d gotten her lipstick smeared on him, but Cathy and Paul were only a few feet away. He wiped his mouth instead and grinned.

“Nice try, but you’re still not getting my coffee.” 

“Sharing is caring, Clinton.” She pouted and his eyes dropped to her lower lip, drawn like a magnet. He wasn’t the only one, though. When he made himself focus on her eyes again, Darcy was looking at his mouth, too.

He winked at her and took another drink from his lipstick-covered cup.

* * *

At halftime, their team was trailing by ten points. Clint offered to grab hot dogs for everyone, which was probably the grossest food imaginable at ten-thirty in the morning but Darcy was subsisting on a single handful of granola so calories of any variety sounded good. Dad turned him down, but she and Cathy both requested hot dogs and sodas. Clint smiled at her with his eyes all crinkled before he turned to go and Darcy wrapped her arms around her stomach to get a fucking grip.

“I don’t need a hot dog,” Dad said, looking pleased with himself. He reached down with a wince to grab the duffle bag he’d brought with him. “Brought my own snacks.”

“Paul Lewis, how dare you!” Cathy smacked him on the arm and he winced again, but Darcy was willing to bet her next paycheck from Jane that it was more performative than anything. 

“No way in hell am I paying three dollars for a cold hot dog.” Dad rummaged through his bag, pulling out a bag of chips. “It’s robbery is what it is.”

“You’re nothing but a big cheapskate,” Cathy said. “I volunteer with the band boosters, you know. I could have you thrown out of here.”

Dad grinned at her. Really grinned, all toothy and wide with his eyes shining. “I’ve got a bad back, you wouldn’t dare.”

“Don’t you tempt me, old man.” Cathy tried to keep a serious face but she was smiling, too.

Darcy watched the whole exchange with a sense of bewilderment. Were they… _flirting_? Dad and Cathy? Mom’s best friend Cathy? 

A hand clamped down on her shoulder and pulled her from the thoughts. She looked over, expecting to see Clint back with their food, but beside her was a tall blonde with some heavy-handed eyebrows. Oh, shit, wait.

“Abby!”

“Darcy!” Abby squealed. Wait, did she even go by Abby anymore? That was what everyone called her in high school, but she was one of those girls who used her first and middle name on social media now, no last name. Abigail Marie. Darcy was pretty sure she was married, though. “I didn’t know you were home!”

“Yeah, it was a last minute trip,” Darcy said, glancing at her dad. He was still making eyes at Cathy, waving his bag of chips under her nose to entice her. Oh, they were absolutely going to have a conversation.

Abby beamed at her, oblivious. It was kind of unfair how little she’d changed since graduation. Same chiclet teeth, same blonde hair curled all to hell, same spray tan. She’d look more at home hosting an HGTV show than sitting here on some rusted out bleachers, but then, you couldn’t have everything. Maybe that was why anytime Darcy saw her post on facebook, it was always about her latest multi-level marketing venture. She was a Boss Babe. Girl Boss? Whatever. She was a friendly face, at the very least.

“How long are you here?!”

“TBD,” Darcy replied with a shrug. “Dad needed some help at home, so I’m gonna hang out for a while.”

Abby squealed. “Oh, that’s so great! We should get lunch and catch up! I don’t think I’ve seen you since Evan was a baby.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right. How old is he now, three?”

“Five.” Whoops. “Brooklyn is three, and Jackson just turned one.” 

Right. She had three of them now. Darcy felt a little twinge of guilt that she hadn’t been keeping up with any of this, but Abby didn’t seem bothered by it. She was happy to chatter for a few minutes about how big the twins were getting and to chide Darcy for not coming home sooner to visit. They exchanged numbers and set up a lunch date for early in the week just as Clint climbed the stands with his arms full of food.

“They were all outta Sprite, sorry,” he said, seeming to realize at the last second that his seat was now taken. “Oh. Hey.”

Abby’s eyes widened and Darcy’s stomach tightened. She _was_ married, right? Covertly, Darcy looked at her left hand just to double check. Not that she could blame her if she flirted. Clint had some sexy three day stubble going on and his grip on all their snacks was making his jacket ride up, exposing a good two inches of toned stomach. He, like Abby, looked out of place in the old stadium. Too pretty.

“You didn’t tell me you have a boyfriend, Darcy!”

Four pairs of eyes locked onto her, so obviously Dad and Cathy weren’t wrapped up enough in their own moment to miss out on watching her squirm. Damn them. 

Darcy looked at Clint, well aware of his gaze burning into hers. And then the words just tumbled out.

“Sorry, just slipped my mind. Abby, this is Clint. Clint, my friend Abby.”

Thank fucking God he did this superspy shit for a living, because he didn’t miss a beat, just handed Cathy her hot dog and smiled at Abby. “Nice to meet you.”

When she moved out of the way, he sat down and handed Darcy a hot dog, too. Then he put his freed-up arm around her, fingers brushing at her hip. Her dad made a noise but Darcy ignored him. Her heart was already pounding out of her chest and she was a terrible liar. If she made eye contact with Dad or Cathy, she’d lose all her nerve.

“Nice to meet you too,” Abby said with a note of surprise to her voice. Her eyes drifted between them and then she lifted her hand in a wave. “I’ll see you Tuesday, okay, Darcy?”

Darcy waved with her hot dog. She waited until Abby disappeared into the crowd again to breathe, scooting just the tiniest bit away from Clint. His fingers flexed on her hip but didn’t move until she looked up at him.

Her mind had already rolled over a thousand ways he could possibly react to her fib, but seeing him struggling to hold back laughter had been way, way down the list.

“What are you laughing at?” 

“Nothing.” He chuckled, spreading warmth through her when he squeezed her hip. He let go after a moment but the heat stayed. “Nothing at all.”

Darcy scowled and bumped him with her shoulder. “Shut up and watch the game, Barton.”

And he did. His mood seemed drastically improved as the game progressed, and she wasn’t stupid enough to wonder why. No one to blame but herself, either, for her ridiculous jealous streak and uncanny ability to jam her foot down her own throat. 

It was cute, though, she had to admit that. He was ridiculously into the game. So much so that his shout of excitement actually made her jump when Elijah ran the ball in for fifteen yards on a third down. She’d never pegged Clint for a football fan but watching him get this enthused for her brothers softened her anxiety about telling Abby he was her boyfriend and let her relax into enjoying the game, too.

The third quarter was almost over and their team was down by ten points. Plenty of time to make it up, though, and Ethan was on the field now. Darcy recognized the stubborn little set to his shoulders even with all the pads he had on. He caught the ball and ran but something went wrong and he tripped, losing the ball in the process.

There were some groans in the crowd but it died down quickly and the kids set up for another snap. The ball went flying and Ethan tried to catch it again, but it slipped right through his hands.

They were pretty far from the field, but one of Ethan’s teammates was shouting at him loud enough to be heard over the noise of the parents in the stands. Darcy couldn’t hear his exact words, but she was already mad on her brother’s behalf.

Everything happened quickly after that. Ethan’s shoulders squared, unnaturally large for his body with all the pads he had on, and he took off at a run. He dove at the boy who’d shouted at him, wrapping his arms around his legs and taking him to the ground.

The stands erupted in gasps.

“Oh, my God!” Darcy exclaimed. “What was that?!”

Beside her, Clint looked guilty as hell. “He went for the legs.”

“What does that mean?!” She scrambled to her feet. “Never mind, never mind, oh, God, I have to go talk to his coach.”

“I’ll go with you,” Clint said, following her down to the field.

It took both coaches to get Ethan off the other kid. Darcy and Clint showed up at the same time as the kid’s parents, who looked mad as hell. Darcy ignored them and kneeled down in front of her brother, her hands on his shoulders.

“Ethan, what were you _thinking_?”

He didn’t look at her, though. He looked up at Clint with a proud grin.

“I went for the legs.”

Clint grinned right back. “Nice work, kid.”

The coaches and Jacob Kinkowski’s parents weren’t nearly as thrilled about the whole thing. He was ejected from the game and Elijah decided to leave in solidarity. They collected their things from the sidelines and filled Darcy in on the situation on the walk to the parking lot. By the time they got to the car and they’d finished telling her all about the weeks of bullying, her irritation had turned into pride. She wasn’t the only one, either.

“I knew that kid was giving you crap,” Dad said to Ethan, ruffling his hair. “Good on you for shutting him up.”

“I’m not in trouble?” Ethan asked, eyes wide. 

Darcy snorted. “No way. Get in the car, we’re going to get ice cream.” She high-fived both of her brothers and ushered them into the backseat. Dad opted to ride with Cathy, so she held the keys out to Clint.

“Wanna drive?”

He stepped close, nearly crowding her into the side of the SUV.

“So I’m not in trouble either?”

Darcy tipped her chin up to meet his eyes. “Why would you be in trouble?”

Clint’s hand closed around hers. He could have just been grabbing the keys but he lingered, his thumb brushing over her skin.

“For being a bad influence on your brother,” he said.

“I’d argue that you’re a good influence. You got him to stick up for himself,” Darcy replied. His thumb made another pass over her skin and her breathing hitched, just slightly.

“Fair enough.” Clint leaned closer, blue eyes dancing with amusement. “Besides, I’m not the one who told a lie today.”

She swallowed hard. He wasn’t playing fair and he knew it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, you do. So there’s another lie,” he teased. “Unless you were trying to tell me something earlier…?”

It was there in his eyes again, underneath all the mirth and teasing at her expense. He wanted to know if she was serious. If she’d meant anything by telling Abby that he was her boyfriend. By letting him hold onto her a little too long, by letting him stand this close to her now.

Darcy pushed the keys into his hand but made no move to extricate herself.

“I’m trying to tell you,” She said, standing on her toes so that her lips hovered a few inches away from his ear. “That we should go get ice cream before the lines are outrageous.”

When they locked eyes again, Clint’s smile was so bright it radiated through her.

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Maybe she was, but maybe that was the point.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reading your comments is one of the highlights of my week, truly. If you feel inclined, drop another one to let me know what you think and if you haven't left kudos, do that too! <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Darcy have a bathroom run-in. It was bound to happen eventually, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took so long to update for the last chapter, I thought you guys deserved another one this week! This time of the smutty variety. Yeeeeaah, I'm finally earning that explicit rating.
> 
> Beta'd and squealed over by my personal cheerleader, BoudicaMuse. I have no earthly idea what I would do without her, y'all.

Sunday night meant early bedtime for the boys so they could get up early for school in the morning and it seemed to mean that Darcy was going to bed early, too. She went upstairs not long after sending the boys up with the mention of a shower and turning in early. Clint got wrapped up in finishing an episode of Ice Road Truckers with Paul, but when the credits rolled, Darcy’s dad was sound asleep in his recliner.

Clint figured leaving him there was the best course of action since going up and down stairs was still painful for him, so he turned off the tv and headed up to grab his clothes for a shower. The afternoon spent raking and mowing had been the physical exertion he’d desperately been searching for, but it also meant he probably smelled like a gym bag and he didn’t need the twins calling him out on it at breakfast in the morning. He stripped off his shirt and socks and padded down the hall in just his sweatpants with his clean clothes tucked under one arm.

Darcy had been upstairs for a while, so Clint was surprised to hear music coming from the bathroom as he approached the door. It was quiet, probably so she wouldn’t wake the twins, and he could hear her humming.

He hesitated a moment and then knocked. He heard some fumbling and then the music cut off.

“You can come in,” Darcy called out quietly. 

No way in hell was she letting him come in if she was still naked, but he could dream, right? All the flirting they’d been doing had his head mixed up. She had stopped jumping every time he touched her and during dinner she’d even rested her arm against his at the cramped kitchen table while they ate. It was enough to get a guy’s hopes up.

Turned out she wasn’t naked, though. Damn. 

Darcy sat on the high countertop, fully dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of shorts. Her hair was wet and curling down her back and she had her knees drawn to her chest, her hands rubbing up and down her shins and calves, which seemed really fucking weird until he realized what she was doing.

She was lotioning her legs. The bathroom wasn’t very big, so even from the doorway Clint had an excellent view of how smooth and soft they looked. She shifted to stretch one leg out, spreading white lotion over her thigh, and as his eyes tracked the movement he realized she wasn’t wearing shorts, but boxers. Purple boxers. His boxers. 

How long had she had those? Just seeing her wearing them fresh out of a shower was enough to make his brain short-circuit briefly. Jesus, first the hoodie and now this. Seeing her in his clothes was never going to stop making him feel like he’d run clear into a brick wall.

“Sorry, I’m hogging the bathroom,” she said. 

Clint dragged his eyes from her legs to meet her gaze. “It’s all good. Do you need more time?”

“No, I’m finishing up.” Oh, thank God.

“You sure?” He asked, pleased with his own restraint. He could see her rubbing lotion into her calves in his peripheral vision but managed to keep looking at her face.

“Yep,” Darcy said, popping the ‘p’. “Just about done. Might not be any hot water left, though. Sorry.”

Clint shrugged. “That’s fine.” He needed the cold water now anyway. He was only human, after all, and the restraint he’d shown wavered when her hands slid back up her thighs. Fucking Christ.

He heard the words come out of his own mouth before he even finished thinking them.

“You want a hand with that?”

Darcy looked up in surprise and he wondered if he’d pushed too far with that one. He tried for an easy grin, but it was a feat, considering he was distracted by all the blood in his head rushing to his cock.

“Thanks, but I think I’ve got it. Shower’s all yours.”

She wiped her hands on a hand towel and hopped down from the counter. He tried to shift out of the way when she walked past him but the bathroom was small and he wasn’t firing on all cylinders currently, so they did an awkward shuffle instead. Clint held an arm up to make things easier and Darcy raised both of hers over her head, but her tits still brushed against him when she wiggled her way by.

He didn’t breathe again until she shut the door behind her, arm still up in the air and his cock half-hard in his sweatpants. 

God fucking dammit.

* * *

Darcy counted the steps to her bedroom door. Thirteen, fourteen, open, shut, fuck. Fuck, fuck.

Would it kill Clint to put a damn shirt on once in a while? It was bad enough she’d had to endure him raking the yard earlier. The kitchen window over the counter where she’d been loading the dishwasher had a perfect view of the front yard. A task that should have taken her ten minutes tops had ended up taking thirty-five because she kept getting distracted by his biceps and the way his ass looked when he bent over to scoop leaves into a bag.

The bathroom, though. She’d known it was a bad idea to let him come in before she was done. Clint wasn’t easy to read when it came to emotional bullshit, but she knew what he looked like when he wanted something. Wanted her. His eyes got all dark and his jaw did that little twitch and fuck, fuck, he’d been looking right at her legs. He’d offered to _help her lotion up_. 

Darcy breathed out steadily as she climbed into bed and pulled the covers up. For a brief moment, she considered the possibility that Clint had been joking, making light of the moment like he tended to do. But she couldn’t convince herself. That look in his eyes was clear-cut and unmistakable. If she’d said yes, he would have put his hands on her without question.

She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. God, this wouldn’t be a problem if she wasn’t intimately familiar with that body of his. She’d kissed paths across his chest before, dug crescent moons into his back with her nails. She knew exactly what those magnificent arms of his looked like braced on either side of her while he was on top of her.

No, no. Darcy pulled the pillow from under her head and pressed it over her face. 

_Think of something else. Anything else._

She tried and tried and tried, and her traitorous brain answered her with a vivid depiction of Clint in all of his naked glory. 

God fucking dammit.

* * *

Turned out the water was still hot after all. Shut away behind the shower curtain with the water pounding on his back and his aids out, Clint was struck by how the bathroom still smelled like Darcy. The scent of her shampoo was everywhere, mixing with the body wash he’d picked up at the store. It was a heady combination that made his head spin and his cock ache.

Alright, time to be an adult. Sleeping in an eight year old’s bed wasn’t exactly conducive to taking care of business, but the shower seemed as good a place as any to help with this particular problem. Clint shuddered as he took himself in hand, twisting his fist once. Yeah, he needed this.

His eyes slid closed as he remembered Darcy’s legs all stretched out while she lotioned them a few minutes before. Soft and kissable, that’s how they looked. She loved when he used to linger there, too. Her left was especially ticklish and he could nuzzle his cheek into her, suck marks into her skin. 

Clint’s breathing picked up as he braced a hand on the shower wall, pumping the other steadily around his dick. Water wasn’t the best lubricant for this, but it didn’t make much of a difference. He liked the friction anyway.

Would she still moan the same way she used to? She used to grab fistfuls of his hair and plant her feet on the mattress to grind against his face when he speared his tongue inside her. God, the taste of her. He could just imagine her musky flavor on his tongue, the whimpering little sounds she’d make and the way her thighs would close around his head. Her voice echoed in his head, the way she used to call his name when she was right on the edge, when he had her trembling and ready to fall apart for him.

He grunted and tightened his hand on his cock, his strokes picking up speed. Yeah, this wasn’t going to take long at all.

* * *

Darcy’s thighs clenched together under the blankets. 

The way he’d looked at her fucking legs, though. The heat in his eyes reminded her of when he used to spend a ridiculous amount of time with her knees hooked over his shoulders. She’d never been with a guy who had been so enthusiastic about eating her out, but Clint had been perfectly at ease tasting her until she had to tell him to stop. 

Huffing out a breath, Darcy finally admitted defeat and shoved the old pair of boxers down to her ankles. The thirst wasn’t going to end until she got an orgasm, so it was better to just get it out of the way. Everyone was asleep, anyway, and Clint had his aids out in the shower so she wasn’t in danger of being heard or walked in on.

Her legs parted as one hand slipped down her stomach, the other rucking her shirt up above her tits. All her good toys were locked away in her room at the Tower, but it wasn’t like she was here to take her time and treat herself. No, this was to clear her mind so she could stop worrying about flooding her panties every time Clint so much as grinned at her or put his hand on her back.

Darcy let herself sink into the thoughts as she parted her lips and brushed her middle finger over her clit. The light touch made her jolt but it wasn’t enough, wasn’t what she really wanted. What she really wanted was Clint’s calloused fingers to touch her, to stretch her out and crook up into that sweet spot that made her back arch. He was so damn _good_ at it, too, that was the worst part. Cocky but for good reason.

Craving pressure, she circled her finger over her entrance and then pushed it inside. Still not enough. She added her index finger, flexing her wrist to push them deep and sighed as her eyes slid closed. The image of shirtless Clint was still firmly in her mind and she focused on that as she worked her fingers steadily in and out of her pussy. Hard muscle and smooth skin, warm under her hands and even warmer under her lips.

* * *

That fucking sinful mouth of hers. 

He hadn’t stopped thinking about her lips since the night of the Nerf battle. Always painted red and pouty, and fuck, she was constantly biting or licking them. So full and perfect, and the way they looked wrapped around his cock, Christ. She used to make these little sounds whenever she sucked him off like nothing in the world felt better than hollowing her cheeks around him while he pulled her hair.

Clint’s breathing turned shallow, his hand twisting faster on each downstroke. What if she’d taken his offer seriously? If she had said yes, the bathroom door locked and everyone was asleep. They would have had all the time in the world.

* * *

Darcy could hear him groan in her head, imagine the way he’d sweep her hair into his hands while she licked her way to his hips. He’d try to be quiet but he’d always grunt the first time she closed her mouth around him, tighten his fingers in her hair and yank just a little. She always liked it when he pulled on it when she gave him head. 

Cupping one of her breasts in her free hand, she pinched her nipple between her fingers until it hardened, savoring the jolts of pleasure it sent through her. That was more like it. She just needed to get off and then her head would be on straight again.

* * *

Would she have gone to her knees in the bathroom for him?

Clint pressed his forehead to the shower wall, deep in the fantasy with his eyes squeezed shut and his breathing coming in shallow pants. He imagined Darcy telling him yes, running his hands all over her legs, slick with that lotion that smelled so good. He’d eat her on the counter until she made him stop, kiss those pouty lips of hers and let her taste herself on his mouth.

Then it would be his turn. Darcy on her knees in front of him, his hands tangled in her gorgeous hair and holding it up so he could watch her while she swallowed him. Her hot little tongue sliding over him, her fingernails digging into his thighs, her throat closing up around the head of his cock…

* * *

Could she have sucked him off like that in the bathroom? He was so willing. If she’d said yes, would he have fucked her in the shower?

Darcy’s breathing hitched and she bit her lip to hide the whimpering noises threatening to bubble up as her fingers found the right rhythm. She had three curled into her pussy now, not nearly as deep as she wanted, and her legs spread wide to rub the side of her clit with her other hand. 

Everyone was asleep. They could have taken their time if she’d taken him up on it. She could have sunk to her knees on the tile and worked through the discomfort to blow him until he shot down her throat with those big hands all wrapped up in her hair.

* * *

Clint’s wrist was killing him, but his stomach was tight and he was so _close_. Almost there, just a little more. More of the fantasy, more of Darcy.

He wouldn’t come in her mouth, no fucking way. Not the first time. No matter how tempting it was, he’d haul her up and set her on the counter to fuck her instead. Not a single thing in the world, not even her perfect mouth, compared to how she felt when he was buried deep inside her.

* * *

She imagined him coming in her mouth, spilling salty and hot onto her tongue, but that wasn’t quite right. He would have pulled her off before he finished, his face all flushed. He’d fuck her right there on the counter, her legs wrapped around his hips while he sucked a mark into the base of her neck and pounded her until she didn’t know which way was up. Clint half-assed a lot of things, but sex wasn’t one of them.

Heat started to rise up from her toes and Darcy fought back another moan. Why hadn’t she taken him up on it?

* * *

If she’d just let him put his hands on her legs....

Those smooth thighs would have been around his hips by now, gripping him tight while he pushed into her heat. Darcy wasn’t a biter but he imagined her teeth sinking into his shoulder to muffle her noises, her tits pressed against his chest, the way her pussy would clench up around him when he made her come again.

Clint pressed his lips together as his vision went black at the edges and he came hard, shuddering through the wave of pleasure and letting it ride out. When he got his brain back in working order, the water had gone cold. He let go of his softening cock and shook his wrist out with a wince.

The fantasy was just that, after all. She hadn’t said yes and he was still getting himself off in the bathroom alone. But they weren’t fighting anymore. She’d let her friend think that he was her boyfriend. She laughed at his jokes and sat next to him at dinner and he hadn’t imagined the heat in her eyes when she’d walked out of the bathroom.

Things weren’t _there_ yet, but Clint had every reason to believe they were getting there.

* * *

The image kept shifting in her mind, from the bathroom counter here to Clint’s apartment in Bed-Stuy. They were in his bed, his firm hands gripping her hips, guiding her as she flexed her thighs to ride him. She was close, so fucking close, and he knew it, was coaxing her along, telling her how beautiful she was, how good she felt, how much he loved her.

Darcy bit down on her pillow to muffle her cry as she came, pulsing around her fingers and shivering with shockwaves. Her head fell back and she pushed the pillow aside to breathe, her mind racing.

She gave it a full two minutes before the panic set in. The high started to ebb away and she was left with that lingering thought of what had pushed her over the edge. He’d told her that he _loved_ her. Real Clint hadn’t ever said that, they’d never gotten that far, but it wasn’t lost on her what that particular fantasy meant.

She’d been lying to Jane, to Cathy, to herself. She didn’t have it handled. She wasn’t over it and she had absolutely no idea what to do about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to kudos or leave a comment to really brighten up my week! :D
> 
> Also, if you're into Pacific Rim (or even if you're not), please go check out BoudicaMuse's new Taserhawk Pacific Rim AU fic [Don't Hold Back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23053843/chapters/55138072). It's a huge labor of love for her and it's incredibly well written, funny, and there's pining. Pining, you guys. Show her some love.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Clint's turn for a guilt trip and Darcy just can't let things go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so excited about this chapter that I wrote the entire thing in a few hours today. Expect another update fairly soon because hoooo boy, the next chapter's already weighing heavy on my mind. 
> 
> As always, thank youuuu to sweet BoudicaMuse. Her words of encouragement keep this fic going, you guys.
> 
> xoxo

With the boys settled in the living room watching a movie and Paul at physical therapy, the house was quiet. Comfortably quiet, though, the kind that put Clint at ease instead of convincing him he needed to be looking over his shoulder. Darcy had some acoustic playlist going while they cleaned up from dinner, her phone perched on the windowsill above the sink.

Clint watched her from the corner of his eye as he rinsed the soapy spatula she handed him. She hummed along to the song and swayed a little, enough that her hip bumped into his and jolted him with warmth. 

“You gonna put that on the rack or what? You’re holding up production.” She smiled at him and Clint stuck his tongue out at her, flicking her with water. She squeaked, brandishing a pair of tongs at him and clicking them menacingly.

Things had been like that for a whole twenty-four hours, since the supercharged moment in the bathroom. He’d expected Darcy to take a step back and continue keeping him at arm’s length, but it seemed the opposite had happened. She was touching him _all the time_ now. Little brushes of her hand against his shoulder when she walked past, her leg pressed to his when they sat together on the couch. She’d tucked his shirt tag back in earlier and he’d felt her fingers brush through his hair before she pulled away. It was enough to drive him insane.

The sexual tension was one side of it, he supposed. Jerking off in the shower to his explicit fantasies of Darcy had only ratcheted up that side of his libido that he’d been attempting to tamper down. But sex wasn’t the heaviest weight in his mind. It was the casual intimacy. Every time she touched him or laughed at his jokes or leaned in close to make fun of her dad in secret, it was like throwing dry brush onto a flame in his chest.

“Focus, Darcy,” he chided her. “The dishes aren’t going to wash themselves.”

She rolled her eyes but she hadn’t stopped smiling. God, she was so beautiful. He loved making her smile. 

“You’re the one who volunteered to help. I could have managed just fine on my own without you and all your distractions.” 

She swiped at him with her dishrag and Clint let her just to watch her laugh when she covered his nose with bubbles. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m over here doing my sworn duty as a rinser.” He swiped at his nose and nudged her with his elbow once he got the bubbles off. “You’re the one being distracting.”

“Oh?” Darcy met his eyes, that sly, teasing grin on her lips. He wanted to kiss it right off her face. “Please, tell me how I’m distracting you.”

Wasn’t that a loaded damn question. First of all, he’d been thinking about brushing that piece of hair that had escaped from her bun aside and kissing the junction between her shoulder and neck for the last twenty minutes. He opened his mouth to tell her as much, deciding to throw caution to the wind, when his pocket vibrated.

He wanted to ignore it, but Darcy pressed her lips together and went back to washing her mixing bowl. If it was Natasha, he was going to kill her. In fact, it didn’t matter who it was, he was going to kill them. Very few people had his cell phone number and he couldn’t think of a single one that was important enough to break up his Moment.

Drying his hands on the dish towel, he yanked his phone out of his pocket to answer it. “Barton.”

“Where the hell are you?”

Clint inhaled sharply through his nose. “Give me a second.” 

He felt Darcy’s eyes on him as he walked away, but he wasn’t about to have this conversation in front of her. He went outside instead, pacing the length of the driveway.

“You gonna make me wait all night?” Barney’s voice was gruff and slightly muffled, like he was hiding their talk as much as Clint was.

“I’m in Michigan,” Clint answered. “What do you need?”

Because if it was Barney, he needed something. He always needed something.

“What the hell are you doing in Michigan?”

“I’m on vacation.”

His brother laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Well, you’re gonna have to cut it short. I need you here.”

“What did you do?” 

“I’m just in a bad spot,” Barney dodged. “Need you to help me keep this guy off my back. Guys, actually. Multiple.”

Clint kicked at a weed growing through a crack in the concrete, exhaling in irritation. “How many is multiple?”

“Well, I won’t fuckin’ know until they get here, will I? You gonna let me leave it to chance, really?”

“I already told you, I’m all the way in Michigan. I can’t help you.”

“Listen, little brother. I don’t know what you’re doing on your _vacation_ , but I do know that I owe this guy almost ten grand and if you don’t help me, it won’t be pretty.”

“Barney, my car is busted. There’s no way for me to get to you. You’re gonna have to handle this one on your own.”

“Some brother you are,” Barney sneered. The words balled up and sucker punched Clint in the gut. “And after everything I’ve done for you. Guess the next time you see me, I’ll be in a bodybag.”

He was being dramatic, but it didn’t lessen the guilt. 

“It’s not my problem. Don’t go making promises you can’t keep and you won’t end up in shit like this,” Clint volleyed back. “I can’t always be there to clean up after you.”

Barney hung up on him and he swore loudly. His hands shook as he tucked his phone away, rubbing his palms on the rough denim of his jeans. The motion was grounding, rooting him in the here and now, but it was far from comforting.

Clint looked up the driveway to the house. Inside, Darcy and the twins were still in the soothing quiet, completely oblivious to his turmoil. A five minute phone call with his brother was all it had taken to shatter the peace he’d found here.

Barney was being dramatic. He’d been in far worse places before, owed more money to far more dangerous people, and he’d always made it out fine. He wasn’t going to die just because Clint wasn’t by his side to hold his hand through a fistfight. 

But he could. And Barney was a pain in his ass, and he didn’t trust him for a single solitary second, but that didn’t mean he wanted his brother dead. Or even laid up in the hospital from a bad beatdown. On the other hand, if the roles were reversed, he was pretty sure Barney wouldn’t have come running gallantly to his rescue, either. 

They weren’t like Darcy’s family. After spending a week with them, Clint was thrown by the sudden bubble-bursting sensation that Barney’s phone call had left him with. Being here with them was like taking a break from all the shit in his life that he loved to shove deep down. He and Barney were family, but it didn’t mean the same thing to them that it meant to Paul and Darcy and the boys.

_What the hell are you doing in Michigan?_

Clint looked at the kitchen window, glowing soft yellow in the dusk. He could see Darcy still standing at the sink with her lips moving, probably singing along to something on her playlist. 

He thought he knew what he was doing, but maybe he didn’t at all. Jaw clenched tight, Clint shoved his hands into his pockets and walked back towards the house.

* * *

It was wrong to spy, but Darcy reasoned that it wasn’t like she was eavesdropping. She had a perfect view of Clint pacing up and down the driveway from the window above the sink, though, and she watched him while she finished the dishes.

Who was he on the phone with? It was none of her business, but with the way he’d tensed up and walked off, she was naturally curious. 

Her first thought was that it was Bobbi. Having his ex-wife call while he’d been actively flirting with Darcy a moment before was grounds for some awkwardness, right? Except the argument going on in her driveway didn’t seem like one he’d be having with Bobbi. As much as she hated it, they were still on friendly terms, divorced or not.

He wouldn’t have reacted that way if it were Natasha, or even Steve. Who else did he talk to on a regular basis? Someone who could provoke that kind of reaction?

Darcy shook her head and drained the sink. It wasn’t going to do her any good to sit and ruminate on it. She busied her hands, if not her brain, by putting away the dishes in the drainer. One of the pots had to be placed down low and when she straightened up, Clint was leaning on the counter next to her.

“Jesus,” she said, feigning extra surprise. “Put your sneaky shoes away, Barton.”

“Sorry.”

He didn’t smile, not even a twitch of the lips. He just reached for the silverware basket on the drainer and started to put them away. It was like someone cut a hole in the net in her stomach, letting all of her butterflies escape. The playful fluttering that had lingered for days disappeared, leaving her with a weight like a stone in her gut. 

She pressed on, though. “So what’s up? Did Natasha need something?”

Clint shook his head, tossing another fork into the drawer. “Nah, that wasn’t it.”

“Is Lucky okay?”

“Lucky’s fine.”

Darcy pursed her lips together in irritation. If he wanted to play it this way, then fine. She’d tried the subtle and gentle route. Now she was just mad.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or are you going to brood about it all night?”

He looked at her then, his lips twisted into a smile, but it was all wrong. It wasn’t in his eyes.

“Didn’t you tell me once that women think brooding is sexy?”

“Clint.” She put her hand on his wrist, stopping him from grabbing another handful of silverware. “Stop.”

He shifted to face her. Any traces of that little smile were gone, but he shifted his hand until he could take hers and squeeze her fingers.

“Darcy, please.” His eyes locked onto hers, holding her in a gaze that would normally make her knees wobbly. All that intensity and emotion directed right at her, begging her to just drop it. It was enough to make her want to, to give him what he wanted and slip back into the easy flirting and banter.

But it was a familiar rug, the one they’d shoved everything under before, and it had no place here.

“Who called you?”

His eyes tightened at the corners. “It’s not a big deal.”

Anger flared in all of her veins, hot and quick, and she jerked her hand out of his.

“Obviously it’s a big deal. You were perfectly fine ten minutes ago and now you’re acting like the world’s ending.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

They stared at each other, locked in a standstill, until Darcy’s itching urge to open her mouth took over again.

“This,” she said. “This is _exactly_ the problem.”

Clint shoved the basket of silverware back with a frustrated noise. “Go on, then. Tell me exactly what my problem is.”

If he was going to get an attitude, then so was she. Fuck this.

“All I did was ask who fucking called you, Clint. And that’s some big secret? You can’t be bothered to tell me even that little piece of information?”

Guilt flickered across his face but it was replaced with the same irritation she was sure was radiating off of her. 

“I said I don’t want to talk about it, Darcy. Why can’t you ever just let it go?”

“Because it’s not fair!” She exploded, before remembering the boys just a thin wall away. She took a breath and started again. “I don’t understand why you won’t talk to me.”

Clint looked as frustrated as she felt, but it didn’t help matters. It just pissed her off more.

“I talk to you all the time,” he said quietly.

His attempt at smoothing things over only kicked up her rage. If it was an isolated incident, she could have forgiven him and moved on. But it was _always_. He never wanted to talk, he just wanted to bury it deep and use shitty jokes or sex as a distraction. It was every reason things had gone down in flames, back in full force and reminding her what a bad fucking idea this whole thing was.

“You’re so full of bullshit,” she told him. “Do you even believe the crap that comes out of your mouth? I can’t believe I ever thought this would work.”

“What do you want from me, Darcy?” Clint’s eyes drilled into her again, his voice quiet but rough as sandpaper. “You want me to break down in your arms every time something goes wrong? Cause it’s not gonna happen.”

Darcy recoiled. Icy hurt raced along her veins behind the fire, cooling her down and making her stomach clench.

“That’s not what I said, you goddamn _asshole_ ,” she hissed. Every single ounce of her self-control was focused on not shouting so she didn’t catch the attention of her brothers. “I just want you to admit that something’s wrong. Use your words like a big boy instead of acting like a toddler about it.”

Her condescending tone must have struck a chord because his jaw twitched and his fingers flexed against the counter.

“Why, so you can try and coddle me and fix it? There’s shit about me that you’ll never be able to fix, Darcy, no matter how much you want to try.”

The scales tipped, pain outweighing the outrage by a landslide. Was that what he really thought? That all she wanted was to fix him?

“I’m not here for that,” Darcy worked out around gritted teeth. “I’m no one’s manic pixie dream girl, and I sure as shit don’t care about fixing you. But I do _care_ about you, even though it’s stupid and all you’re ever going to do is run away from me.”

Clint opened his mouth and she threw up her hands to silence him.

“Don’t. You know what, just don’t.” She looked at the clock, more as a distraction than anything. “I have to go get Dad from PT. Just… stay with the boys.”

She pushed off the counter to get around him, hands shaking. Her entire body felt like it was vibrating with the sudden adrenaline rush. Time to get out. Things were only going to escalate if she stayed.

“Darcy.” Clint’s voice carried through the doorway, but she ignored him.

He’d already decided that he didn’t want to talk. She was just giving him what he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! If you haven't left kudos yet, pleaseee do. I love reading each and every one of your comments as well, so if you feel inclined, drop one of those too!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oreos are shared, productive conversations are had, and everyone cheers FINALLY.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've only been dying to write this chapter for _months_. Actual months, y'all. It was severely built up for me and I hope it lives up to all of your expectations, too.
> 
> I haven't generally rec'd music for individual chapters of this fic, but I have an extensive playlist that has gotten me through this whole thing. If you want some insight into my head for this chapter, listen to The Few Things by JP Saxe and Charlotte Lawrence, because I played it on repeat while I sprinted this out.
> 
> My usual thanks to BoudicaMuse, who keeps my ass on track, asks all the right questions, and makes me edit out all my unnecessary faff. I just love her to pieces.

Clint had counted the glow-in-the-dark sticky stars on Ethan’s bedroom ceiling four times. He’d gotten a different number each time, though, probably because it was a shitty way of distracting himself from the guilt clawing at his gut.

Darcy hadn’t spoken to him since she’d stormed out of the kitchen. She’d returned with Paul half an hour later and had ushered the boys upstairs to get them ready for bed without so much as a spare glance for him. He and Paul sat and watched their nightly episode of whatever was playing on the History channel, but Clint hadn’t processed a single moment of it and he wasn’t even sure he’d spoken more than ten words to Darcy’s dad.

He’d been avoiding his phone, but he checked it quickly just to see the time. Five hours wasted. Half the night was gone and soon, the twins would be awake and he’d have to figure out how to navigate their morning routine with Darcy obviously not speaking to him.

Just the thought weighed on his chest like a cinder block. He didn’t want to go back to the tension of the last four months. What if she asked him to leave? 

He wouldn’t blame her. Their fight had probably reminded her of all the reasons she never should have let him stay. It had brought all of it to the forefront of Clint’s mind, too, and made him wonder why she’d ever agreed in the first place. He’d done too much, said too little. 

He went back and forth for another twenty minutes, caught between his own guilt and irritation at Darcy. At her uncanny ability to push all of his buttons and ask every single question that he didn’t want to answer.

In the end he threw the blankets off with a huff of irritation and sat up to put his aids back in. His mouth was dry and walking around the house had the potential to cure at least some of his restlessness. If anything, he could always go sit on the front porch for a while.

Downstairs, there was a dim light coming from the archway between the living room and the kitchen. The recessed lighting had a dimmer but Clint hadn’t seen anyone use it except for Darcy when she sat at the kitchen table to return Jane’s emails because she insisted it helped her concentrate.

If Darcy was in the kitchen, it would have been smart to turn around and walk back upstairs. Go to bed and deal with his thirst until the morning. But he was nothing if not a glutton for punishment, so he went ahead anyway.

At first he thought he was mistaken and that she wasn’t downstairs at all because the kitchen table was empty. Then he heard the crinkle of thin plastic and a surprised noise and yeah, of course she was there.

Hope swelled in Clint’s chest as he looked her over. She couldn’t be that upset with him. She was wearing his hoodie. 

His hoodie, unzipped and hanging open, and a ridiculous pair of shorts that looked more like underwear. She had long socks pulled up over her knees and her hair spilled over her shoulders. Everything he ever wanted, sitting on the kitchen counter and clutching a package of Oreos.

“Hey,” Darcy said softly. “What are you doing awake?”

Clint managed to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth long enough to answer. “Haven’t been to sleep yet.”

She made a noncommittal noise and bit an Oreo in half, so he took the silence as an opportunity to fill a glass with water and swallow it down.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” He asked, leaning back against the kitchen table. 

There was only a few feet separating them, a distance he could cross easily just by reaching his arm out. It was an ocean, though, one where the tide had pulled in everything they’d been avoiding since he’d offered to drive her home, littering the space between them like landmines.

Darcy shook her head and held up her package of Oreos. “Nope. I decided a late night snack sounded good.”

God, the formality of the whole thing was going to kill him. Fuck it. An emotional minefield was no different than a real one, right? And he’d done that plenty of times. He took a breath, preparing himself to just blow the whole thing to pieces, when Darcy beat him to the punch.

“You want one?” Her face was carefully blank, but she held an Oreo out to him.

Clint took the invitation for what it was, or what he hoped it was, and set his glass down. He stepped closer until he could take the cookie from her, meeting her gaze.

“These things aren’t even good,” he told her, popping the whole thing in his mouth anyway.

“Fine, then. More for me.” Darcy’s lips twitched in time with the pounding of his heart. What the fuck was happening? She’d been so angry with him earlier. Now here she was, offering him dessert at two in the morning like nothing had changed.

It was tempting as hell, too. To push everything aside and pretend like it never happened. To get another pass for his shitty behavior and to give Darcy one for hers.

Maybe that was why he moved in closer and grabbed one of the hoodie strings, tugging it gently.

“Am I ever gonna get this back?”

Darcy looked up at him, her blue eyes wide behind her glasses. Whatever she’d expected him to do, it wasn’t that.

“Finders keepers,” she said, and it occurred to Clint that they were both near whispering.

“You didn’t find it, though. I gave it to you.”

“Yeah, you gave it to me. No take backs.”

Well, he’d given her a hell of a lot of things, least of all a worn out hoodie. He didn’t want to take it back. He didn’t want to take any of it back. It was all hers, every bit of it. The longer he stood there staring at her, the more fixed the idea became.

Clint swallowed hard, slowly letting go of the string. “You’re right. No take backs.”

Darcy stared at him for a beat too long, just enough to make it uncomfortable, and he almost backed off right then.

“I know you didn’t sleep with Bobbi,” she said quietly.

Clint’s chest tightened. Of course she’d seen through the lie. If she hadn’t, she never would have let him stay in the first place.

“How long?” he whispered.

Darcy raised one eyebrow. “I never believed you. Not even then.”

“Then… why? Why did you…?” Clint trailed off, unable to gather his thoughts and put them in a coherent sentence.

“I’m not here to fix you,” Darcy said. Her words echoed in his head, mirroring what she’d said earlier in almost the exact same spot. “You wanted me gone. I left.”

The pressure in his chest increased. “I never wanted you gone.”

She snorted. “It sure as shit felt like it. You freaked out and you ran off to your ex-wife and then you tried to tell me that you fucked her, Clint. What else was I supposed to think?”

“I didn’t want you gone,” he repeated. “I just didn’t know what else to do.”

“Talk to me.” Darcy widened her eyes at him, all soft and blue and vulnerable, and her pleading broke him clean in two. 

Clint took the package of cookies from her hands and set it aside. Then he stepped between her knees, nudging them further apart with his hips, and rested his hands on her thighs.

“It’s not that easy, Darce.” He rubbed his thumbs back and forth over her soft skin, unable to quite meet her eyes. “And I need you to respect that.”

“I do. I do respect it.”

“No, you don’t,” Clint insisted. “If you did, all that bullshit earlier never would have happened. I was all but begging you to drop it and you wouldn’t.”

He could feel her gaze on his face but something kept him from looking her dead in the eye. The silence stretched on for a moment and he worried Darcy was going to come back with one of her barbs, but instead she grabbed his chin.

Clint let her tilt his head down until their eyes locked. Any of the anger he’d expected to see directed at him was nowhere to be found.

“You’re right.” Contrition bled through the two simple words. “I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Unbidden, a smile turned up the corners of Clint’s mouth. “Can I get that on record, ma’am?”

Darcy growled at him, but it was playful, with a little squeeze of her fingers on his jaw before she let go. 

“I’m trying to apologize, dickhead. Take notes, because it’s your turn next.”

He squeezed her thighs. “I am, you know.”

“You’re what?”

Clint leaned in close until their foreheads were almost touching. “Sorry.”

Thank God he’d remembered to put his aids in. For the entire conversation, really, but especially so he could hear the way Darcy’s breathing hitched.

“Sorry for what?”

And here was the hard part.

“You asked me who called earlier. I didn’t want to tell you because it was my brother,” Clint said slowly.

Darcy’s eyebrows furrowed. “You’ve never—”

“Never told you about Barney, I know. Or much of anything.”

She nodded but for once didn’t fill the silence with words of her own. 

“I need you to accept that sometimes, I can’t. Okay? I just can’t. It might be a rough mission, or it might be my family, or maybe just a shit day listening to Steve’s patriotic ass. But sometimes I just don’t wanna talk about it.”

“No,” Darcy said, and he deflated. “I can’t accept that. Because I see what it does to you when you hold all that shit in. You give me so much crap about accepting help, but you won’t do it, either. I want to be the one giving you support for a change.”

Clint breathed in and out slowly, at war with himself. On one hand, it was fucking irritating that she couldn’t just take him at face value. On the other, she cared. She cared and it felt so damn _good_.

“Am I the problem?” Darcy’s voice dropped lower. She was the one who wouldn’t meet his eyes now, not even when he squeezed her legs. “You don’t want to talk to me, or you don’t want to talk to anyone?”

She was hurt, and he wondered how much Natasha had said to her during their lunch dates, or what she might have heard from Wanda. It clicked then, what it must look like to her. That he was talking about his emotional turmoil with everyone but _her_.

“Darcy, stop.” He shook his head. “It’s not like that. It’s not a competition, it’s not… things are different, that’s all. Compartments, right?”

Her lower lip wobbled. “I want you to trust me with that kind of stuff.”

“And I do.”

She didn’t look like she believed him, so he slid his hand up to cup her chin the way she’d done to him. 

“You wanna know what helped the most before? Having you come over. Playing with your hair and watching your stupid baking shows,” he assured her. “Just you being there.”

Darcy’s eyes closed. “I still need you to be able to tell me some things. It doesn’t have to be everything. But I didn’t even know you have a brother, Clint.”

He winced. “Fair.”

“And if it’s not me, God, can you just talk to _somebody_? And clue me in? I don’t want to have to wonder if you’re unloading on Nat or a therapist or if you’re just bottling everything up.”

Clint nodded, the motion so close that his forehead really did bump hers this time. 

“Yeah, but you gotta do something for me.”

She rolled her eyes with a smile. “You mean I have to reciprocate here? Because that’s just not fair. I want all of the take and none of the give.”

Clint laughed, low and real, but it died off so he could fix her with a serious look. “I mean it, Darcy. If I tell you to drop it or I need space, you gotta trust me.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed, filling him back up with the warmth he’d been missing since she walked out the door earlier. “I can do that.”

“You think we can get our shit together? Both of us?” Clint asked, eyes on her mouth.

“I want us to.” Darcy whispered the words. Her hands curled in the front of his t-shirt and pulled him closer, like there was any room left between them anyway. “I want it so bad.”

Her teeth sunk into her lip again, so fucking close this time, and it was too much for his control. Clint swiped his thumb up from her chin and pulled her lip free, and then he was kissing her.

Her lips were softer than he remembered. It took a moment for them to find their momentum, tilting heads and angling noses, but it all came rushing back after that. The way Darcy liked it when he captured her bottom lip between his and flicked his tongue over it, or how she made these little noises in her throat when his fingers dug into her waist.

Darcy made another noise into his mouth and Clint groaned in response until she pushed on his chest and he broke away, puzzled.

“My glasses.” She laughed out a breathless apology, pulling them off. “You were fogging them up.”

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.” Clint grinned, threading his fingers into her hair to pull her mouth back to his.

Her thighs pressed into his hips and he slid his hands back, wiggling them under her butt to pull her to the edge of the counter. He could taste the chocolate on her from those stupid cookies but it was sweet and it was Darcy, and _Christ_ , this really was happening. Apparently she felt the same way because it was hard to keep track of her hands and where they traveled, smoothing over his back and then under his shirt to explore his chest.

Yeah, under the clothes. She had the right idea.

Darcy’s head tipped back as Clint kissed over her jaw and down to her neck like she could read his mind. With his face pressed into her throat, he could smell her soap and the memory of the bathroom hit him like a freight train. Combine that with her legs wrapping around him and Clint was a goner, half-hard in his sweatpants and fully prepared to carry her upstairs with the slightest hint that she wanted it, too.

“Clint,” a voice said, but it was the wrong voice. 

Surprise jolted through him and he felt Darcy stiffen, too. Her legs dropped from around him, her hands fell out of his shirt, and he had to take several deep breaths before turning his head to look over his shoulder.

Ethan stood in the archway, pale even in the dim light and the front of his shirt soaked. “I need help. I puked all over my bed.”

And then he started to cry.

“Oh, buddy, don’t cry, it’s alright. It’s alright, I promise.” Darcy cooed, in total contrast to the way she was shoving Clint back so she could get to her brother.

Dazed, Clint stepped back and let her slide down from the counter. He took a moment to curse the total unfairness of the universe, willed his erection to disappear as quickly as it had reared up, and turned around to help where he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
> 
> 
> Have a pretty moodboard that I spent way too much time on to celebrate this chapter! I just think it's neat. <3
> 
> Thank you for reading! Drop a kudos or make my entire week by leaving a comment. They feed my soul, you guys.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy has lunch with Abby, Clint spends the day with Ethan, and Paul is stubborn as hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, the world's kind of a dumpster fire right now, isn't it? I've been struggling with a little bit of anxiety and some other personal issues, so it took a little longer than I intended to get this chapter up. But it's hereee! Thanks for hanging in there with me.
> 
> Let it be known that BoudicaMuse is the cheerleader to end all cheerleaders. None of this would have gotten done without her poking at me. xo

As nice as it was not to cook herself lunch for once, Darcy was severely disappointed in the restaurant options in her hometown. She and Abby had ended up at the local diner, which was basically their only option unless they wanted to grab hot dogs from the gas station.

Darcy watched with raised eyebrows as Abby’s toddler put her chunky fist in her ketchup and proceeded to smear it all over the booth and her own face. Abby was too absorbed to notice, arguing with the other kid who kept asking to play Candy Crush on her cell phone.

Not exactly the lunch she had in mind.

The food wasn’t even as good as she remembered from her teenage years. Sunshine Spot was the local hangout, especially after parties and bonfires in the woods, but the club sandwich that used to be her favorite sat half-eaten on her plate. It was greasy and somehow also dry, and Darcy might have actually considered murdering someone to get her hands on some decent sushi.

Between the bad food and Abby arguing with her kids, Darcy started to drift off into her own head. At first it was all worry about Ethan and leaving him home with Clint, but thinking about Clint led to thinking about what had happened in the kitchen the night before. His mouth on hers and the scratch of his stubble on her neck when he kissed her there. The way his fingers had curled into her thighs, his hips starting to grind into hers...

“Darcy?” She snapped to attention to notice Abby giving her a concerned look. “You still with me?”

Ah, shit. Now she just looked like an uninterested asshole. Mostly true, but still.

“Sorry,” she said contritely. “It’s just that Ethan got sick last night and I’m worried about him.”

“Oh, honey!” Abby reached across the table to grasp her arm, eyes wide like Darcy had just told her that she was on death’s door. “We could have canceled. You didn’t leave him with your dad, did you?”

“No, no way. I dropped Dad at PT on my way here. Clint’s taking care of him.”

The smile on Abby’s face turned from sympathetic to exuberant so fast that Darcy needed a neck brace for the whiplash. It reminded her of high school, the constant facial rearranging to please people who didn’t give a single shit about her. 

“That’s really sweet of him, to take care of your little brother like that! Sounds like you’ve got yourself a keeper.”

Darcy took a moment to think about it, but her smile answered before she did. “I guess I do.”

“How long have you guys been together?” 

“Almost a year,” she lied. 

It wasn’t a lie, per se. She and Clint started dating almost eleven months ago. Abby just didn’t need to know about the four month break between. If you could consider them dating now. Despite the heated kiss on the kitchen counter and the gentle one Clint had pressed to her mouth this morning on her way out the door, it still felt wildly up in the air.

She wanted it, though. There was no point in denying that to herself anymore, and she’d admitted it to Clint already. He wanted to do better and she did, too. What other reason did she have to hold herself back from him?

“So you guys are pretty serious, then.” Abby tilted her head, giving Darcy the deep impression of being scrutinized. “Tommy and I were only together eight months when he proposed. When you know, you know, right?”

Darcy imagined Clint on one knee, performing a very dramatic proposal, and tried very hard not to laugh. 

“Yeah,” she said, her lips twitching. “When you know, you know.”

She didn’t know, really. She didn’t know what this thing with Clint was going to turn into or what she wanted out of it. All she knew was that it felt good, and she was going to ride that feeling and let the rest go for now.

“Hey, speaking of. I kinda want to take Clint out tonight or tomorrow. Is there anything new to do around here?”

Abby lit up. “Well, yeah. There’s still Scooter’s, you guys could go bowling, or they just put in that awesome bridge at the park…”

She continued on and Darcy’s hopes were dashed. Of course there was nothing else better to do around here than bowl at the shitty, run-down alley, or to pick a movie at the theater where the floors were always sticky and the scent of dumpster soup hung in the air. 

Back before, whenever they had time for dates between his missions and her work, the amount of things to do in New York had been limitless. Even the dumb touristy shit was more interesting than anything in Darcy’s hometown. Whatever. She could make it work. They could always rent a movie and stay in. In fact, cuddling under a blanket on the couch didn’t sound like the worst idea in the world.

They made some more small talk while Darcy picked at her sandwich and Abby’s baby made a complete mess of the floor around their booth. The waitress looked positively furious when she came back to give them the bill, and Darcy tipped her forty percent out of sheer guilt.

She was just stuffing her credit card back into her wallet when her phone rang. Local number, but one she didn’t recognize. Huh.

“Hello?”

“Darcy Lewis? This is Jen from St. Thomas Rehab Center. It’s about your dad.”

* * *

The machine beeped as the blood pressure cuff deflated again. Darcy clucked her tongue as she watched the monitor, unable to breathe until the numbers lit up the screen. 152/100.

“See? I told you it was coming down.”

Her eyes swung to her dad and narrowed at him, but she didn’t dignify him with a response. If she opened her mouth, she was going to yell, and then she’d get herself booted from the hospital.

“Pumpkin,” Dad said. “Come on, I’m fine. Look at me. Completely fine.”

Darcy’s nostrils flared as she huffed out a breath. She could contain herself to some heated muttering. Maybe.

“You are not fine. You could have had a stroke.”

They’d been over this in the car, since his stubborn ass refused to let the rehab facility call him an ambulance even though his blood pressure was hovering at stroke levels when they took it there. He insisted that he had taken his medication that morning, but Darcy wasn’t satisfied. He could have _died_.

“But I didn’t. Darcy, sweetheart, you heard the doc. They’re gonna up my dosage, increase it to three times a day, I gotta watch my diet. That’s all.”

Darcy closed her eyes, taking the moment to shove her anger down. Then she walked to Dad’s bedside and took one of his giant hands in her own. 

“You scared the shit out of me, okay? I don’t ever want a call like that again.”

Their eyes met and neither of them said it, but Darcy knew they were on the same wavelength. Not another call like Mom. Never again.

Dad nodded at her and she could see his Adam’s apple wobble as he swallowed hard. “I’m gonna be more careful, pumpkin. I swear.”

The curtain slid open behind them and Darcy looked over her shoulder to see Cathy in the doorway.

“Hey,” Dad said in the softest tone Darcy had ever heard from him.

Cathy glared at him. “I’ll get to you, Paul Lewis. You just stay put right there until I’m ready to throw you in the frying pan. Darcy, hon, can you come out here for a minute?”

Dad didn’t look too happy about them leaving to gossip in the hallway, but he was tethered to the bed by an IV pole and Darcy really didn’t care about his irritation at the moment. She followed Cathy into the hall and waited for the click of the door before burying her face in her hands.

“Hey, hey, come on now,” Cathy said, gripping her shoulders. “No crying allowed.”

“I’m not crying.” Darcy wiped at her eyes, smudging her eyeliner. “I’m just mad.”

“You’re allowed to be mad. Just tell me what I can do to help.”

Not for the first time in her life, Darcy felt an overwhelming surge of gratitude towards Cathy. The glue holding their family together, especially Darcy herself as she scrambled to keep a grip on her cracking bits.

“Ethan’s home sick with Clint, but Elijah’s still at school. I have no idea how long Dad’s going to be stuck here. Can you just go pick him up for me?”

Cathy nodded, rubbing her shoulders. It was sort of soothing, or would have been if Darcy didn’t feel like throwing up.

“Absolutely, sweetie. Anything else?”

Darcy shook her head. “No, I can handle the rest. Thank you, Cathy.”

“Not a problem. You know I’ll do anything for your family.” Cathy tilted her head. “Darcy… I know this is scary, but your dad really is alright. Everything’s going to be fine.”

She pasted a smile on her face, a pale, worn-thin version of her usual expression. If she stretched it any wider, it would tear like tissue paper. “Yeah, I know.”

It was going to be fine. She was going to make sure of it.

* * *

Clint wrinkled his nose as he shut the lid on the washer. Puke was pretty low on the list of gross shit he’d ever had to deal with, but little kid puke was still nasty. And Darcy had about turned green while gathering up the kid’s sheets and blankets, so it was only right that he wash up everything else that had gotten splattered on.

He headed back out to check on Ethan, unsurprised to find the kid unmoved from the fetal position on the couch. Clint had tucked a blanket around him and Ethan was burrowed inside it, his dark hair and eyes the only thing peeking out.

“You want something to drink, big guy?”

Ethan nodded, dead-eyed. Clint headed to the kitchen to get him some Sprite from the back of the fridge. Maybe it was a little flat, but it was supposed to help upset stomachs, right? He poured half a glass and carried it back out to sit next to him. 

“Drink up.”

It took a minute, but Ethan pulled himself into a semi-sitting position and took the cup from him. Three swallows in, he sputtered and choked and Clint’s alarm bells went off as he tried to remember if he knew the Heimlich or not. 

“You alright?”

“I’m okay.” 

Oh, thank God. He wasn’t even sure the Heimlich would have helped him there, and he didn’t remember the steps even if it would.

Ethan pulled a face. “But this is flat. It’s gross.”

“I just put all your pukey clothes in the washer, kid. _That’s_ gross.” Clint said, and the kid laughed for the first time all morning, sending his heart into a growth spurt to rival the Grinch. What was it about the Lewis family that made him into such a total fucking sap?

“I hate being sick,” Ethan grumbled. “What day is it?”

“Tuesday. Why?”

“Our field trip’s Thursday.” He handed Clint the cup and curled back up to watch the Price Is Right. “I don’t want to miss it.”

“I thought you didn’t want to go to the pumpkin patch anyway.”

There was a long pause during which Clint thought maybe he’d gone back to sleep, but then finally Ethan said, “It’ll be cool.”

Except there was an edge to his voice. It took Clint a second, but the lightbulb went off as he watched Darcy’s brother’s eyebrows furrow together in a perfect imitation of his big sister when she was anxious or thinking too hard.

“That kid’s gonna be there, isn’t he? The one from the football game?”

“Yeah,” Ethan admitted quietly. “He keeps telling everyone that Elijah and I are lying to look cool. Half our class doesn’t think you’re really here.”

Well, that settled that. Now he was definitely going on that fucking field trip.

“Don’t you worry, kid. I’ll be there to prove ‘em all wrong, okay? I promise.”

Ethan nodded at him, pale and bleary-eyed. “Thanks, Clint.”

Clint shrugged. “Hey, anything for my best bud. Try and get some sleep, alright? You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

He sat with the kid until he conked out with his little blanket-covered feet in his lap. Just as he was about to lift them up so he could sneak off the couch, the front door opened.

Elijah came bustling in, followed by Cathy and her bulldog. The ruckus made Ethan stir, so Clint gestured wildly to get their attention and put a finger to his lips. Cathy got the message and ushered the dog outside, while Elijah darted for the stairs, probably to go play video games in his room.

Clint untangled himself from Ethan, confused as hell. He hadn’t been expecting Elijah home for a while, and he thought he’d be accompanied by Darcy and Paul, not Cathy.

The woman in question seemed to read his mind because she beckoned him to follow her as she disappeared out the front door. Clint followed, bewildered.

“I need you to come over for a minute,” she said when he shut the front door.

“The kid’s asleep…”

Cathy waved her hand to dismiss his protests. “Just right here in the garage, it’s fine. Only take a second, promise.”

She walked him across the yard to her place, letting him in a side door to her garage. The inside was nothing like he expected. Clean as a whistle and cool enough to raise goosebumps on his arms, the entire place was packed with flowers. In fridges, on tables, everywhere.

“I thought Darcy said your shop was downtown?” Clint asked dumbly.

“It is.” Cathy laughed. “I just set this up for smaller orders so I can work from home, especially during wedding season. This way I can watch Golden Girls without having it on mute while I put bouquets together.”

“Alright. So, do you need help with something?”

“No, you do.” Cathy pointed to a long table in the middle of the garage where four or five vases of various flower arrangements sat. “Pick something for Darcy.”

He laughed incredulously. “What?”

“You’re trying to win her back, aren’t you? Don’t you know anything about wooing women?” 

He was almost offended. Wooing women? He was _great_ at wooing women. The flirting and sweeping them off their feet was never the issue. It was keeping them there that was the problem.

“I think I do alright.” Clint said, winking at her. 

Cathy stared back at him, unimpressed, before letting out a big sigh. “Oh, lord help us,” she said, patting his cheek. “Honey, if that’s the biggest gun in your arsenal, it’s no wonder you haven’t made any progress with Darcy.”

He made an indignant noise. “I’ve made progress!” 

Progress. He thought of her legs wrapped around him last night and her fingers skating over his skin under his shirt. Even better than that, the smile on her face this morning when he kissed her goodbye at the door. That was progress, alright. Plenty of progress.

Cathy did not look convinced. “All the same, pick one. She’s gonna need it today.”

Clint’s stomach dropped to his knees. “What’s going on?”

“Paul had an incident. I just came from the hospital.” The look on his face must have clearly communicated all of the alarm flooding him, because Cathy shook her head at him. “He’s fine, he’s fine. Had some chest pains at PT and they took his blood pressure, it was pretty high. But they’re gonna let him come home tonight. Darcy took it kind of hard, though.”

Oh, man. Clint winced as he remembered finding Darcy crying on the floor in the Tower. She’d been panicked as hell then, and that was only because of Paul’s back injury. Her relationship with her dad was something special. Of course she was going to freak out about this kind of thing.

Cathy was right. She was going to need as much cheering up as he could manage.

“Yeah, alright.”

He inspected the arrangements she set out and they all looked good. Plenty of ones with color or with lots of leaves. Clint _almost_ picked the one with Easter lilies after remembering Darcy’s fondness for them, but it didn’t feel right. He agonized over it for a few minutes under Cathy’s watchful eyes until his eyes wandered and he saw a shelf full of potted plants.

“These are all great, but… I want one of those.”

Cathy followed his gaze to the shelf and then looked back at him, smiling in a way that made him feel like he’d passed some sort of test. He beamed proudly and took his pick of the plants on the shelf, still glowing with his decision as he carried it across the yard to the house.

Elijah stayed occupied with his game and Ethan slept all afternoon, so Clint didn’t have much to do but worry until Darcy called him to say that she and Paul were on their way home. Their arrival wasn’t the flurry of activity he thought it would be but Darcy bustled around the house like she was being timed and Clint let her.

If it soothed her anxiety to be a busybody, he wasn’t going to get in her way until she ran out of steam.

He had no clue what the dinner plan was, but her little sticky note on the fridge said something about homemade pizza, so he pulled the pre-made dough out of the fridge to be helpful. He had almost convinced himself to start unrolling it himself when Darcy came into the kitchen.

“Oh,” she said, eyeing the bowl of dough. “Thanks.”

“Just trying to be helpful.” Clint finally couldn’t take it anymore. He crossed the kitchen to pull her into his arms, one hand smoothing down the frizzy flyaways of her hair. 

“Hey,” he said, pausing until she looked up at him. “You doin’ okay?”

Darcy’s eyes were locked on his, but it was she was looking right through him. “I’m fine. I just need to get dinner made.” 

Her hands pushed at his chest and he released her with a deep breath. 

Okay, ouch. But, she had a damn rough day. 

Which reminded him.

“Okay. But uh, I got you something. Thought it might cheer you up.” He leaned on the counter, nodding to the potted cactus on the table. It wasn’t a flower, but it was funny, and he wanted to make her smile.

Darcy barely glanced at the plant before turning back to wash her hands. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

Clint frowned. He pushed off the counter to get closer, hand curling around her hip to get her attention. “Darcy.”

“Clint.” She pushed his hand off her hip and looked up to level a frustrated look at him. “Not now, okay? I just need to make dinner.”

It stung, but Clint reasoned with himself. She was having a bad day, and he would look like a pretty big hypocrite if he tried to push her to talk to him about what was on her mind. It wasn’t a big deal that she wasn’t as welcoming as she’d been last night or this morning. Her brother was sick, her dad had spent the afternoon in the hospital, and she still had to make dinner because Clint was kind of useless. No wonder she wasn’t excited about his damn cactus.

“Okay,” he agreed. “If you need me, I’ll just… be with the twins.”

He walked to the living room to check on the boys, his mind reeling. It was going to be fine, though. Ethan was going to eat toast for dinner and drink the ginger ale that Cathy had shoved at him. Paul was going to take his new medication and heal up just fine. Everything would get back to normal, and then he and Darcy could get back on track, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sad face about it too, you guys. 
> 
> BUT. There is still some cuteness to be had.
> 
>   
> 
> 
> Dresupi made me the cutest fake e-book cover for this fic and I can't stop smiling at it. I have the best, most talented fandom friends.
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you haven't left kudos, pleaseee do that and if you feel inclined to leave a comment, that's cool too!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's car is fixed. Hooray, right? Riiiiight?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't leave them that way, you guys. I just couldn't. So I worked my buns off and wrote this entire chapter in less than seven hours tonight because I'm an impatient b and I love you all too much to let you suffer. You're welcome.
> 
> Shoutout to Dresupi and BoudicaMuse for checking this baby out for me! I'm very, very proud of this chapter and their insight made it all possible.

Ethan kept some food down at dinner and by morning, he was begging to go back to school. Darcy relented on the condition that he tell a teacher if he felt even the slightest bit sick again, leaving her and Clint alone in the house again for the day. Paul was home as well, but he was holed up in his bedroom, probably avoiding Darcy’s constant nagging for him to check his blood pressure for the hundredth time.

Clint hadn’t had a chance to talk to her since dinner the night before, where she’d barely looked at him. His sleep had been restless, caught between the sting of her pushing him away again and concern for her father and the desperate desire to help somehow. But it wasn’t like he was a doctor or a magician. He couldn’t get rid of Paul’s health issues. All he could do was be patient and wait for Darcy to calm down, like he’d asked her to do for him.

He busied himself with more projects for Paul, organizing tools in the shed and cursing as he raked the front yard for the third time. Fuck leaves, honestly. New York had them, too, but not in the city, so he never had to rake that shit at the building. Never again.

Just as he was finishing up and throwing the rake back in the shed, the mechanic called to tell him that the radiator had come in early and the car was finished. Finally, some good fucking news. Clint breathed out as he stuffed his cell phone back into his pocket. He was eight hundred bucks poorer now, but at least he had a car again. 

He headed inside to grab some water, still wiping the sweat from his forehead when he ran into Darcy.

“Hey,” they said at the same time. 

He smiled and Darcy started to return it, but then her lips twitched and she pursed them together tightly like she was holding in a secret. It didn’t buoy Clint’s mood, but it didn’t snuff out his happy flame, either.

“I got good news. Mechanic called. Car’s all fixed up and ready to go.”

Her eyes widened a fraction. “Really? Already?”

Clint nodded. “Yeah, I was surprised too. The radiator came in early, so…” He shrugged as he trailed off. Details didn’t matter, at least his damn car was in working order again.

“Well, that’s good,” Darcy said slowly. “So you can get home soon, right?”

It was like taking a Louisville slugger to his guts, only they were made of glass and he shattered on impact.

“What are you talking about? I’m not leaving yet.”

She looked away from him and the sick feeling spread. “You can, though. You don’t have to stay. I’m letting you off the hook.”

“Darce.” He blinked rapidly. “I want to stay. We’re heading back together at the end of the week, right?”

Darcy shook her head, but she still wouldn’t look at him. “I’m not going back next week.”

“Okay, a few more days,” Clint insisted. She was shaken up about Paul. She wanted to stay a few more days and make sure he had his bearings back before they left, right? He could stay a couple more days, no problem.

She breathed out, long and slow, and his heart sank. 

“Not just a few days,” Darcy said. “I’m going to stay for a while.”

“How long is a while?”

“I don’t know. A few months, maybe more.”

_Months_.

“Is this about your dad?” Clint asked, already knowing the answer.

Darcy adjusted her glasses and then ran her fingers through a bit of tangled hair. Fidgeting and avoiding the question, avoiding the entire conversation. 

“Well, yeah.” He stared her down, counting the seconds until she finally looked at him and her voice broke. “He needs me, Clint.”

“He needs you to, what? Move in with him?” Clint tried to keep the biting incredulity out of his tone but it weaved through the words anyway. 

Darcy kept her eyes on him and he almost, _almost_ felt bad when he saw the guilt in her gaze, but his own confusion and hurt kept it at bay.

“He needs help with everything. You saw what happened yesterday, how bad it is…” Her voice wavered. She cleared her throat and seemed to collect herself, straightening and speaking with more certainty when she opened her mouth again. “I already talked to Jane, she’s fine with it. I’m not coming back.”

“You already talked to Jane?” The hurt spread, cracking him wide open. “When were you going to tell me, huh?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t know how.” Her lower lip trembled and he started to reach for her, the need to comfort her like an ingrained instinct, but she stepped back. “I’m sorry.”

How was this even happening? In twenty-four hours, everything had been turned upside down again.

“You said you wanted to do this. You wanted to try.”

“I made a mistake.” Her voice shook again and Clint had to clench his hands at his sides. Shaking some sense into her or crushing her against his chest both felt like great options, but he couldn’t make himself do either. “It’s not going to work. You have to go back home, to your life. And I need to stay here and be with my family.”

“It’s your life too,” Clint growled. “You belong there.”

“I belong _here_ ,” she snapped, chin tipped up defiantly. “They need me. That’s it. End of story.”

He took a step closer. “You know what I think?”

“No, but I’m sure you’re about to tell me, aren’t you?”

“I think you’re using this as an excuse. All of it.” 

“An excuse for what?”

“To avoid me. This.” He waved his hand in the empty space between them. “Us.”

“Are you kidding me right now? Not everything is about you! I had to drive my dad to the _hospital_ yesterday, Clint! That’s not an excuse, that’s reality. He can barely walk still, and you expect me to just run back to New York with you? Are you really that selfish?”

Hurt echoed through his body and rose in his throat like bile, thick and sour. “Selfish? I want you to be happy, Darcy. Look me in the eyes and tell me that if you stay here, you’ll be happy. Really, truly happy.”

She stared at him, opening and closing her mouth to start her sentences over and over until finally she sputtered out, “I need to be here.”

Clint stepped back and put his hands up. Talking to her was like talking to a brick wall, only worse, because at least a brick wall wouldn’t break his fucking heart.

“You want me to go?” he asked. One more hammer against the wall to see if he could make a crack.

“I don’t see any reason for you to stay,” Darcy said quietly. 

He stepped backwards, fumbling for any words to hide the sound of his heart being ripped like a scrap of paper. “Right. I’ll just pack and get out, then.”

She didn’t even try to stop him. He made it upstairs, still half-hoping that she’d come after him, but she didn’t. It took him less than five minutes to throw his things in his duffel, and when he came back down, Darcy was still standing in the archway with her arms crossed.

“I can still drive you to get your-”

“No,” Clint cut her off, shaking his head. “I can walk. You should stay. In case Paul needs you.”

“It’s only a few blocks.”

“Darcy?” He choked her name out, rearranging his features to a pleading look. “Believe me when I say the last thing I want right now is to sit in a car with you.”

A stinging look of pain crossed her face, but Clint ignored it. He shouldered his bag and walked out the door without looking back.

* * *

Darcy lasted twenty seconds after the door clicked shut. Then she crouched down and pushed her glasses up, buried her face in her hands, and gave into the urge to cry. Hot tears slid between her fingers as her shoulders shook. It didn’t matter, she told herself again and again. It wasn’t going to work. Things were better this way. 

But the tears didn’t stop and soon she was sobbing into her hands, leaning into the wall to keep herself from going completely to the floor. 

A creak in the floorboards startled her and Darcy’s head shot up.

Dad frowned down at her. “Oh, pumpkin.”

She wiped hurriedly at her face, straightening up and pushing her glasses back down. “It’s fine, I’m fine.”

The look that Dad gave her probably could have leveled a small country. “Darcy Elizabeth, I might have a busted back and sludge in my veins, but I’m not deaf. I heard you and Clint shouting.”

Darcy flinched. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not me who deserves an apology.” He glanced towards the stairs. “Heard him come down, too. Where’d he go?”

“Home,” she whispered.

Dad sighed and gripped her shoulder, squeezing firmly. “Come on, let’s get you sitting. Then you’re going to tell me all about it.”

They sat on the couch together, Darcy leaned against her dad with her head on his shoulder and his arm around her. She cuddled up to him like she hadn’t in years, craving the comfort and reassurance.

Silence stretched between them while Dad stroked her hair and Darcy sniffled, willing away the worst of her tears. After a few minutes of this, he broke it with his gruff voice.

“You shouldn’t have done that.”

Darcy sat up to stare at him. “What?”

Dad met her eyes, an immovable object even with the force of her incredulity. “You shouldn’t have pushed that boy away.”

“First of all,” she said hotly, “Clint is not a boy, he’s a grown man, capable of making his own decisions. I didn’t push him away. He left. If he wanted to be here, he’d still be here.”

“That grown man drove you here and has spent the last week and a half doing nothing but trying to make you happy,” he said firmly. “He wanted to be here. I don’t know what’s going on, but I know you shoved him out.”

It stung because he was right. The anger was easier to grab onto, though, so Darcy let it take the reins.

“Oh my God, really? It’s all my fault now? You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“I’m not takin’ anyone’s side!” Dad sighed. “I’m sorry, alright? You’re my daughter and I want what’s best for you. But you’re out here crying and carrying on, and I know you didn’t want him to go.”

“It was for the best,” Darcy repeated the echoing mantra in her head. “He had to get back to being a superhero. And you guys need me.”

“We need you?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Or you think you need to be here?”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s the same thing.”

“Darcy.” Her dad wrapped his arm back around her, dragging her to his side so he could kiss the top of her head. “I’m always gonna want you here, honey. And if you want to stay, I’d never tell you no. But don’t throw a good thing away because you think I need you here.”

She hated, _hated_ that he was making sense. It was like she’d thrown her brain into a blender without a lid and now her turmoil was splattered on the walls, laid out for Dad to read and parrot back to her. Like she didn’t know how bad she’d fucked up already.

Darcy lifted her head to meet his eyes, feeling very small and child-like. “What if it’s not a good thing? What if it’s a mistake?”

“It could be,” Dad said with a little shrug. “But seeing you and Clint together? Didn’t look like much of a mistake to me.”

He gave her a squeeze and Darcy turned her face into his chest, tears burning her eyes again. “It doesn’t matter. He’s already gone.”

“You know, there’s this great invention, sweetheart. It’s called a cell phone. You ever heard of it? Makes calls to people who could be driving off into the sunset…” 

Darcy wanted to laugh but the only thing that came out was a choked sob. “He doesn’t want to talk to me. You were right. I shoved him away. For good this time, I think.”

“You could fix it, you know,” Dad said.

She thought about it. About picking up the phone and asking Clint to come back, sucking up her pride and apologizing. It was tempting enough that her fingers twitched, reaching for the brick in her pocket, but something made her stop.

She wanted him, but it didn’t change anything. No matter what Dad was saying, he still needed her. Clint needed to go home.

There was nothing left to say, really.

* * *

Clint turned the radio up as loud as he dared, enough to make the windows in the back rattle with the bass of some pop song, but it still didn’t drown out his overactive brain.

It had dawned on him halfway through his walk to the mechanic that he was leaving without saying goodbye to the twins. Somehow that was a bigger hit than he’d thought it would be, thinking of their little faces and how he was letting them down.

The worst part was, he couldn’t even be _that_ angry with Darcy. All of her reasoning made sense for wanting to stay in Michigan and take care of her family. Clint couldn’t begrudge her that, even if he was fucking furious that she’d decided to lock herself down. Everything she’d been pissed at him for, packaged up neatly and served to him like the worst plate of cosmic payback. 

His fingers tapped out an anxious rhythm on the steering wheel the further he got out of town. 

Actually, you know what? No. He _could_ blame her.

Paul was perfectly capable of taking care of the twins by himself. He needed a few extra days to heal up, maybe even an extra phone call from Darcy per week to check in and see how his blood pressure was doing, but he wasn’t on his deathbed. He certainly wasn’t an idiot, and the twins had survived this long without Darcy micromanaging their every move. 

She just had to be a martyr, didn’t she? Sacrificing her happiness for everyone else around her. He watched her do it time and time again for Jane, too. Working herself to the bone in that lab so that Foster didn’t have to entrust her precious research into one of Stark’s hired lackeys. It made Clint want to tear his hair out.

He cared. He cared so much that he wanted to shout at her to make her understand that she didn’t have to do it all by herself. She didn’t have to take on everything and she definitely didn’t have to do it alone. He wanted to be that person with her, next to her, shouldering his portion of the load so she didn’t crumple beneath all the weight. 

Darcy had called him selfish, and maybe he was. He wanted her. Every bit of her, and he wanted her in New York. In his apartment, on his couch, with Lucky sat between them giving them slobbery kisses when he was feeling neglected. He wanted the press of her mouth on his and to wake up with her in his arms and to see that blazing smile on her face. He wanted to know that she was happy and that he’d made her that way.

If that was selfish, then he was a selfish bastard. No doubt about it. Not selfish enough to stay when she told him to go, though. 

Clint’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He berated himself for being dumb enough to walk away and took it out on other cars on the expressway, driving too fast and weaving in and out of the fast lane. Maybe the faster he got home, the sooner he could start the process all over again. The Missing Darcy process. It hurt like hell, but he was a professional at this point.

He looked over his shoulder to merge back into the right lane when something caught his eye. On the passenger seat, where it had been since the night they’d arrived in Michigan, was Darcy’s wadded-up cardigan. Clint reached over to grab it, fingers twisting in the soft material to pull it over onto his lap. Bergamot clung to the material and filled his nose, sending an ache so strong through him that he nearly choked.

_I don’t see any reason for you to stay_ , she’d said. 

There were plenty of reasons for him to stay. He was just too fucking stupid to say them out loud.

When the next exit appeared, Clint put on his blinker.

* * *

The boys hadn’t even realized yet. Darcy watched from the porch swing as they played in the front yard, wrestling in the grass to burn off excess energy after football practice. She didn’t even know what to say to them. Sorry, your sister’s an idiot. Nothing new there.

She shouldn’t have let Clint stay in the first place. It would have been better to kick him out right from the beginning and save everyone the headache and the heartache. A clean and simple break.

Shaking her head to clear the thoughts, Darcy stood and crossed her arms, rubbing them with the sudden chill. “Boys, it’s time to head inside!”

They both groaned but drug themselves out of the grass.

“What’s for dinner?” Ethan asked, predictably. One little stomach bug wasn’t enough to keep him out of the kitchen for long. Darcy lifted one corner of her mouth in a smile and ruffled his hair when he climbed up onto the porch.

“Meatloaf,” she said, and widened her eyes when the boys made identical noises of disappointment. “What? Meatloaf’s great!”

“Yeah, if you like hot garbage,” Elijah grumbled. He looked around the porch, realization dawning on his face, and Darcy tensed as she anticipated the question before he even asked.

“Hey, where’s Clint?”

She didn’t get the chance to answer. A car pulled into the driveway and took all of their attention away instead. Darcy’s heart stopped and then started again when Clint climbed out and walked around to his trunk.

“There he is! His car’s fixed!”

She was just vaguely aware of the boys whooping happily over the roaring in her ears. She stood there dumbly, arms still crossed while Clint walked up the steps. He had something purple slung over his shoulder and grocery bags in his hands. He beamed at the twins, looking proud as hell while they surrounded him and shouted about his car and football practice and _where had he been_?

“Thought I might ruin dinner tonight, what do you guys think?” He winked at them, opening one of the bags to reveal a tub of ice cream and jars of toppings. 

The excited yelling exploded into screeching and all Darcy could do was stand there.

“You guys do me a favor and carry all this inside, alright?” Clint said, handing off the bags. “You take the heavy one, Ethan. We still gotta work on those muscles.” 

They disappeared in a flash with the grocery bags and the storm door banged shut, leaving them alone on the porch. Darcy opened her mouth, taking several moments to find the words she wanted.

“You came back.”

Clint nodded. 

“Yeah. I made a promise to Ethan, and I’m gonna keep it.” Seeing the confused look on her face, he continued. “The field trip tomorrow. We’re going to the pumpkin patch.”

“You didn’t have to—” she started, but Clint put a hand up to cut her off.

“I want to.” 

He took a step forward, slowly like he thought she might push him off the porch if he got too close. Magnetized, she stepped with him until he was close enough to touch. The wind kicked up again and she shivered, hunching her shoulders.

Like he’d anticipated it, Clint smiled and pulled the purple fabric off his shoulder. 

“You left something in my car,” he said, holding up her forgotten cardigan. 

He lifted one eyebrow, nodding his head at her until she turned around and he could help her slip her arms into it. His hands stayed on her shoulders, spinning her back around to face him.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. He was here. He came back, even after everything.

Clint’s eyes focused on her face in that way that made her breathless and liquefied her insides. All laser intensity in those baby blues, like she was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he said with a rough edge to his voice. “No matter how hard you push. I said I wanted to help so that’s what I’m gonna do. And next week, I’m gonna leave.”

Darcy held her breath, but he wasn’t done.

“And when I leave,” he continued, leaning in close. “You’re gonna be in that car with me. Because I’m not givin’ up on this, Darce. I’m not givin’ up on us. We’re something worth fighting for.”

For a split second she thought he might kiss her, even anticipated the press of his lips, but his fingers came first. He brushed her hair aside and tucked it behind her ear, and then planted a gentle kiss between her eyes.

“Okay?”

She stared up at him, heart pounding. “Okay.”

He smiled wide then, releasing her to hold the door open. “Alright, then. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I just had to squeal into a pillow over this one, alright? If you're a visual person like me, have a visual for the Look on Clint's face during that last scene.
> 
>   
> Yeeeaah. You're welcome. 
> 
> Don't forget to leave kudos and if you ALSO had to squeal into a pillow, feel free to drop a comment and tell me alllll about it. I live for that shit.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you may have noticed that the chapter count was finally posted as 17, and now it's down to 16 after I hacked away bits of my outline and edited out some unnecessary faff. We're in the final stretch here, people. And by final stretch I mean that the last two chapters will be posted simultaneously, one full chapter and one epilogue. 
> 
> I had a full-on mental block about this chapter and thank _goodness_ I have the best beta on the planet for talking me through it. BoudicaMuse is a saint, y'all. Don't know how I'd do it without her. Go check out her fic, [Don't Hold Back](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23053843/chapters/55138072) if you haven't already. It's a total delight and she deserves all the love for it.

Darcy’s apprehension about the field trip had been at a level high since the minute the boys had mentioned Clint coming along. It wasn’t that she didn’t think he could handle being a chaperone, honestly. He’d more than proved that he was capable of wrangling eight year olds with a skill that she hadn’t expected from him.

It wasn’t that she had an issue with Clint coming on the field trip. It was that she had an issue with _Hawkeye_ coming on the field trip.

The boys had built the whole thing up and were so excited about showing him off to their friends, which could go one of two ways. Either all of their classmates were going to be bug-eyed and excited and badger Clint the entire day, or they were going to shrug and roll their eyes because it was Clint in a t-shirt and jeans with nary a purple vest or bow and arrow in sight.

And of course, because she’d tossed and turned and worried about the scenario, it turned out to be a non-issue.

Ethan and Elijah’s friends were all impressed with Clint, giving her brothers perma-smug face the entire bus ride to the pumpkin patch, but they mostly left him alone. Except for Jacob Kinkowski, that little shithead from the football team who kept telling anyone who would listen that Clint didn’t even _look_ like Hawkeye. It didn’t matter, though. The boys were happy, so Darcy was happy.

There were five chaperones, including the boys’ teacher, which gave each of them five kids to look after. Somehow Darcy had ended up with the chattiest group of little girls on the face of the planet. They picked pumpkins at the front of the patch so they didn’t have to walk through the dirt and spent more time looking at the animals than anything else. It put her on the opposite side of the pumpkin patch from Clint and his rowdy group of boys for most of the day, which was perfectly fine by her.

She needed the space to breathe.

Her head hadn’t stopped spinning since Clint kissed her forehead last night. Dinner and bedtime had flown by in a haze of soft looks and laughter from her family and Darcy didn’t think she really breathed until she pulled her blankets up around her head and listened to her pounding heart in the darkness.

Because he came back even after everything. All the bullshit between them, the fights and the miscommunication and the almost making up, and then her botched attempt to White Fang him out of her life… it hadn’t made a lick of difference, because he was still there. Somehow.

It was a dizzying realization, and one that had her conflicted all over again. All she’d ever wanted was for Clint to just let her the fuck in and here he was, offering just that. He wanted to fight for them just when she’d decided that she needed to let go.

Space. She needed space and some time to deal with it. That was all.

Midway through the day, the group convened for donuts and apple cider at a cluster of picnic tables. Darcy’s group of girls were perfectly behaved and waited patiently for their snacks, so she was freed up to help hand out cups and napkins and delegate donut choices to each table.

What had started out as a pleasant early fall breeze soon kicked up into a gust of freezing wind and knocked a pile of napkins off one of the picnic tables. Darcy swore under her breath and bent over to grab them, only to nearly collide with Clint when she stood back up.

“Hey, whoa!”

“Jesus!” Darcy clutched the napkins to her chest. “I almost took your head off.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried,” Clint pointed out with a grin. 

He’d lost his hat somewhere during the trip and his hair was sticking up in the back. Her fingers itched to smooth it down, but she told herself that was too intimate. Not allowed. Especially on a field trip, for crying out loud.

“Probably won’t be the last.” She tossed the muddy, ruined napkins into the barrel that doubled as a garbage. “Your group do okay?”

“Kept ‘em alive. Thought they were gonna die on that hay mountain, though. That thing’s intense.” 

Darcy laughed. “I broke my arm falling off of it when I was in third grade. They should really just get rid of it.”

“Nah, the kids like it. What’s a lawsuit or two against that, right?” 

That got a quieter huff of laughter out of her and Clint scrunched his nose, way more adorable than he had any right to be. Darcy couldn’t help but look him over again while he took a bite out of his donut.

“Were you coming over for a napkin? Because you’re making a mess.” She gestured to his face, where donut crumbs and sugar were clinging to the scruff that was really more of a beard at this point. 

Clint pulled the lazy guy move of turning his face into his shoulder and rubbing his face on his coat. “Better?”

“Not even a little. Honestly, what are you, five?” 

She sighed and reached up to brush the crumbs away herself, but of _course_ that was a bad idea. Somewhere her brain had convinced itself that smoothing down his hat hair was too intimate, but touching his face was okay. Which it most definitely was not, because now she couldn’t make herself stop and Clint was giving her one of his Looks.

“Pretty tall five year old,” he joked.

But his eyes were doing the thing and Darcy was melting, unable to stop her fingers from making another pass over the soft hair covering his cheek. Then he played really dirty and turned his head, kissing the tips of her fingers in the softest gesture that had ever lit her up from head to toe. 

Darcy pulled her hand back and cleared her throat.

“You should probably get back to your group.”

If he was deterred by her practically jerking her hand away, Clint didn’t show it. He just grinned at her and popped the rest of his donut in his mouth. “Sure thing, Darce.”

So, yeah. It was best that they were mostly separated during the field trip. The last thing she needed was more of his smoldering eyes or his deep voice rumbling soft, fuzzy nonsense at her again. Nope. No way. She needed some distance from the pretty to get her head on straight, thank you very much.

It was only a brief reprieve, though. 

Herding the kids _off_ the bus was ten times more chaotic than getting them on. The field trip had taken most of the day so the second graders were dismissed to go home, which meant shuffling the right kid to the right parent and making sure that no one left their pumpkin or their backpack behind. By the time Darcy waved goodbye to the last girl from her group, the parking lot was nearly cleared and she was exhausted.

“You guys ready to go?” she asked Elijah and Ethan, who nodded enthusiastically. Probably excited to go home and carve their pumpkins, which Darcy was not looking forward to supervising. Maybe best to shove that one off on Dad if he was feeling up to sitting on the porch with them.

She did a quick scan of the parking lot and found Clint talking with one of the other chaperones, a middle-aged mom who had been far too enthusiastic about Hawkeye joining them for their little field trip. She was even more animated now, eyes bright and a pointedly flirty smile on her face while Clint chatted her up. 

Definitely time to go.

Darcy stuffed her hands in her coat pockets as she approached, throwing up an apologetic smile. “Hey, sorry to butt in, but the boys are ready to head home, Clint.”

“Oh, great timing!” Mrs. Bishop rifled through her oversized handbag and pulled out her cell phone, wagging it at Darcy. “I was just asking Clint here for a photo. You wouldn’t mind, would you, sweetie?”

Darcy’s answering smile was sickly sweet, but Clint replied before she could with a shit-eating grin on his face.

“She wouldn’t mind at all, Mrs. Bishop.”

“Don’t be silly, honey, I’ve told you to call me Heidi.” 

If Darcy’s eyebrows went up any higher they were going to be permanently stuck in her hairline. She took the phone and pulled open the camera, centering the two of them in the frame. Clint’s smile was lopsided and genuine, but Darcy knew him well enough to see the twitch of his lips while Mrs. Bishop tucked herself under his arm. 

Darcy narrowed her eyes and Clint, the smug motherfucker, _winked_. She was pretty sure it even ruined the photo because he was so bad at it, which was fine by her.

“Turn out okay?” he asked when she handed the phone back over.

“Yep.” Her sweet smile returned with a vengeance. “You know, it’s funny, you guys look a lot alike with all that blonde hair. He could even be your son, Heidi.”

Mrs. Bishop sputtered and Darcy resisted the urge to laugh as she spun on her heel to walk away. Okay, fine, it was petty. But that didn’t make it any less satisfying.

Clint caught up to her and nudged her with his elbow.

“Easy, killer,” he teased. “I might start thinking you’re jealous of middle-aged women or something.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Why don’t you just help the boys put their pumpkins in the trunk, Casanova.”

“That means you think I’m charming, right?”

“It means I think you’re an idiot,” Darcy told him. “And a giant pain in my ass. Now get in the car.”

He winked terribly at her again before jogging ahead to load the boys in the car, making Darcy’s heart stutter. Not because his wink was effective or because he was anywhere near as charming as he thought he was, but because every bit of this was only making it harder to do what she needed to do.

But that was his point, wasn’t it? He wasn’t giving up on them.

And no matter what she told herself, she wasn’t ready to give up either.

* * *

They bought more pumpkins for the front porch and carved them over the weekend. Darcy and Cathy carved out the front of their pumpkins and stuck huge candles inside. Dad’s was actually a decent rendition of a football, while Elijah went classic Jack O’Lantern and Ethan spent two hours on an intricate spider-web. It was so gorgeous that Clint texted a photo of it to Nat, who gave her Spider Seal of Approval and made Ethan’s entire life.

Clint carved a pumpkin, too. Darcy expected some kind of design like Ethan’s with the way he handled a knife so expertly, so the striking rendition of an empty coffee pot wasn’t a total surprise. Still, it made her emotional to see it sitting on the porch steps with the rest of her family’s pumpkins. All the implications were there and it was getting harder and harder to ignore them.

After dinner on Saturday, Darcy made homemade hot chocolate in the crock pot and took her mug out to the front porch for some alone time while Clint entertained the boys. She loved them, really, she did, but one more round of Mario Kart on their ancient Nintendo 64 sounded worse than being waterboarded. 

The quiet of the porch was more welcoming. Darcy curled up with her drink and enjoyed people watching the neighborhood for a while, at least until the front door opened and Dad came out to join her with his own mug clutched in his hands. He didn’t wait for an invitation, just plopped down on the swing beside her hard enough to make the chains rattle.

“Hey, kiddo,” he said. “Whatcha doing out here all by yourself?”

“Just thinking, I guess.” Darcy shrugged with a half-smile. “Felt like a good place to do it.”

Dad nodded in understanding and took a sip from his mug. “Thinking about what you’re gonna do next week?”

She frowned at him. “I already told you what I’m doing. You’re not ready for me to go yet, it’s not—”

“Don’t you put words in my mouth, Darcy Elizabeth. I never said I wasn’t ready for you to go. You went ahead and made that decision all on your own.”

Darcy gaped, mouth opening and closing rapidly. “Dad, you were in the _hospital_!”

“And you heard the doctor. He said I was perfectly fine.”

It was enough to make her want to scream. “Your blood pressure! You could have had a stroke!”

“It was a bad PT session. And despite whatever you think, most men my age are on some sort of blood pressure medication. I’m in the majority here, sweetheart. It just happens.”

Dad leaned back against the swing and sipped from his mug, casual as could be. Completely contrary to Darcy, who was gripping her mug tight enough to imagine crushing the ceramic. 

“You’re nowhere near ready for me to leave, Dad.”

“The new meds are alright so far, blood pressure’s back under control. My back’s not a hundred percent yet, but it’s good enough that I can get around by myself. I’ll be alright on my own.”

“And what about the next time something happens?” Darcy challenged. “Are you going to wait three days to tell me about another injury? Or that you’re on another medication?”

The look he gave her was withering and for the first time in a very long time, Darcy felt like she was looking at a parent and not the dad she’d charged herself with taking care of.

“Enough, Darcy.” He sat up straighter, an edge to his voice. “I think we’ve gotten some things backwards here, and that’s my fault. I set a precedent and now I’ve got to set it straight.”

She blinked, taken aback by the change in his tone. “What are you talking about?”

Dad sighed. “I never should have let you stay as long as you did after your mom died. You took on too much.”

Tears stung Darcy’s eyes and her voice came out thick and watery. “But you needed help, and I—”

“Had a life of your own,” Dad interjected quietly. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you did, pumpkin. But it wasn’t right to put all of that on you. And I’m not going to make the same mistake twice.”

They both went quiet, staring each other down. Darcy rubbed at her eyes with a sweater-covered hand and willed away the rest of her tears. Everything Dad was saying made sense and even worse, it all slotted in perfectly with what she wanted and had been denying herself. 

She wanted to go home and sleep in her own cushy bed at Stark Tower. She wanted New York food trucks and to walk to a concert in the city just because she could. She wanted to go home with Clint and give things another try.

“If I go home,” she started tentatively, “I need to know that you and the boys are going to be alright. That someone’s going to look after you.”

Dad’s lips turned up into a smile. “You don’t think we’ve already got someone?”

“What, you mean Cathy?” Darcy frowned. “It’s not fair to put it all on her, Dad. She’s a friend, not someone to pile all of our crap on.”

Maybe it was the cold air, but Dad’s cheeks were starting to turn pink. “She’s not just a friend.”

It took a minute, but then she remembered the football game. The flirting and the looks and how Dad was _always_ texting Cathy even though he hated texting and… oh.

Darcy swallowed hard. “You two, then? You’re… dating?”

“Nothin’s official, but…” Dad blew out a steady stream of air that looked like smoke. “I don’t know, it just feels right.”

And it did. It felt _so_ right.

* * *

Sunday was movie night, but it felt more like a last hurrah and was treated as such with delivery pizza and Jurassic Park. Clint hauled down the air mattress from Elijah’s room and piled it with pillows and blankets so they boys could hunker down with their pizza and snacks. Dad took his usual armchair and Cathy sat at his feet so they could share a bowl of popcorn and trade little adoring looks.

Clint took up residence in his usual spot on the couch and didn’t say a single word when Darcy curled up next to him. 

The boys laughed too loud and scattered Reese’s Pieces everywhere. Cathy asked questions about every single scene and Dad fell asleep halfway through the movie, snoring with his head tipped back. 

Clint’s arm rested on the back of the couch behind her and Darcy leaned into his chest, bolstered when his fingers brushed over her shoulder. She sunk lower and lower the longer the movie went on, finally ending up with the back of her head resting on his chest. His arm settled around her, his hand splayed over her stomach, and still neither of them said a word.

The soft glow of the television and the warmth of Clint’s body against hers actually started to put her to sleep, but she hung on, determined to make it to the end of the movie. The rest of the house didn’t, though. The boys quieted down before the velociraptors broke into the kitchen and Cathy ended up on the air mattress with them, her quieter snores mingling with Dad’s. 

“Hey.” Darcy felt Clint’s breath on the top of her head, his nose brushing against her hair. “If you’re falling asleep, you should head upstairs.”

“Not asleep,” she whispered, tipping her head back to look at him in the darkness. “Are you uncomfortable?”

His fingers curled against her stomach. “Not even a little.”

Darcy smiled and shifted to look back at the tv, but her eyes caught on her family. The boys had curled themselves around Cathy in the middle of the air mattress so that they all looked like one tangled mass, covered in a Power Rangers comforter. Dad had stopped snoring in his chair, but his face was slack and content.

“They’re gonna be alright,” she said.

“What?” Clint leaned down close. “What’d you say?”

She twisted in his arms, close enough that her nose bumped his in the dark. “I said, they’re gonna be fine. Without me.”

He grinned at her, wide and surprised, but so happy that it almost hurt. “Are you having some kind of weird fever dream, Darce?” 

Darcy rolled her eyes as his hand clamped down on her forehead.

“I’m being serious, are you feeling alright? You didn’t get into your dad’s pain meds, did you? Because that’s serious stuff, I saw the label, and—”

She surged up and pressed her mouth to his. Whatever word that was supposed to come next died in Clint’s throat and he groaned instead, his hand shifting from her forehead to thread through her hair and hold her close.

The kiss was short and sweet, mostly because the angle was awkward as hell and Darcy didn’t want to risk waking anyone up, but they were both smiling when they broke apart.

“So, tomorrow…?” Clint trailed off with a hopeful look, one that Darcy rewarded with another swift kiss.

“Tomorrow, we pack. We’re going home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for reading. Don't forget to leave kudos and if you're excited for the wrap-up, let me know in a comment! Eeeee! <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Darcy say goodbye to Michigan, but they have one last pit stop before they go home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's not a lot to say here except wow, guys. We (I?) made it to the last full chapter of this fic. 
> 
> Beta work compliments of BoudicaMuse and Dresupi, my sweet loves who do nothing but heap praise on me and tell me to get my shit together and write when I'm putting it off. We had a lot of fun looking this one over.

The trunk was loaded and the car had been running for at least ten minutes, but Clint could hardly begrudge Darcy the wasted gas. She and Cathy had been hugging and talking in hushed tones for what seemed like forever while he finished up saying goodbye to Paul and the boys.

Ethan and Elijah had made them some drawings to take back home, which Clint tucked into the glove compartment in the car and promised he’d deliver to Steve and Natasha as soon as they got back.

“Facetime,” Clint promised as he ruffled their hair. “I’ll be around.”

“Not the same as a Nerf battle,” Elijah grumbled while Ethan hugged him for the fourth time.

Then they ran off to play in the yard some more with Cathy’s ancient bulldog, clearly not as emotionally invested in a heavy goodbye as their sister and neighbor seemed to be.

“That’s enough of that,” Paul called over to the two women. “Stop your sobbin’, they’ll be back in a few months.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t shed tears this morning at the breakfast table,” Cathy shot back.

She squeezed Darcy one more time and then turned to Clint, grabbing him by the face and pulling him down to smack a giant kiss on his cheek. “And you be careful, you hear me? All that superhero nonsense, I don’t want to see you gettin’ hurt on the news. I’ll be watching.”

Clint laughed and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. Out of everyone in Darcy’s family, he was going to miss Cathy the most. “Yes, ma’am.”

Paul and Darcy had a small argument when their goodbye hug ended with him trying to cram a wad of cash into her pocket. 

“For gas on the way home,” her dad reasoned.

“Dad, there’s four hundred dollars here,” Darcy protested, waving the money at him.

“Payment for being a home nurse, personal chef, babysitter, and personal chauffeur for two weeks, then.”

Darcy rolled her eyes but hugged him again. “I love you, Dad.”

“Love you too, pumpkin. Now get outta here before you put yourself right in rush hour traffic.”

He and Paul exchanged a handshake that of course turned into a shoulder-slapping hug.

“We’ll see you at Thanksgiving,” Paul said. “Be safe getting my baby girl home.”

“Of course,” Clint said. “I’ll make sure she calls as soon as we get back.”

Finally, that seemed to be the end of it. Her family migrated to the porch to wave goodbye and he pulled Darcy’s door open to let her into the car.

“Don’t forget this little guy,” he said, patting the roof where they’d stuck her potted cactus. 

“Oh yeah!” Darcy buckled the pot into the backseat and wrapped it snugly in the seatbelt. She gave it a tug to ensure that it was firmly in place and then straightened up with a curious look on her face. “I keep forgetting to ask. Why a cactus?”

Clint widened his eyes at her innocently. “I just thought it was appropriate. You know, ‘cause you’re so prickly.”

Her eyes narrowed into thin slits and she poked him in the side. “I’ll show you prickly.”

“Hey, hey!” He laughed as Darcy poked him repeatedly, managing to catch her hand after the first few. He tugged and she fell against him with her other hand braced on his chest for balance. She tipped her chin up and the smile on her lips was so wide that Clint couldn’t resist kissing them. “We can talk about who’s poking who later.”

Darcy kissed him again, lingering long enough to make it a bad idea if they ever wanted to get on the road, so he had to end it. 

“Get in the car, Spike.”

Her family was still waving while they backed out of the driveway. Clint snuck a peek at Darcy just to make sure there weren’t any lingering doubts, but she was smiling wider than he’d seen in weeks, waving happily back at them.

He waved, too. They weren’t his family, but they were something. Capital S something, the kind that had him looking forward to coming back to watch more shitty TV with Paul and to wrestle with the boys and to lug as much potting soil around as Cathy wanted him to.

Darcy took his hand when her childhood home disappeared from sight and Clint twined their fingers together with a gentle squeeze. Time to go home.

* * *

Before home, there was a twelve-hour drive to endure. Which would have been fine, except the tension from the drive _to_ Michigan seemed to only be increased twenty-fold now and spun on its head.

It wasn’t any singular thing that was driving Clint insane. It was everything.

For starters, Darcy humming along to the radio and tapping out the beat on her legs. She’d showered that morning and when she tossed her hair around to some random 90’s R&B song, the car filled up with the scent of grapefruit. If she kept on using citrusy scents for shit like that, he was going to start popping boners anytime he even thought about peeling an orange.

Then there was the whole sharing food thing. Darcy had eaten half of his fries in exchange for one of her chicken nuggets and now she was licking hot mustard from her pinky finger because of course she was. Clint was positive she knew what she was doing, too, with the sly little looks she kept shooting him.

“You’re a menace,” he told her, setting his empty fry carton aside to rest his hand on her thigh instead. 

Darcy clamped her hand over his. “You’re one to talk. This seems highly inappropriate.”

“What, this?” His eyes were on the road but he rubbed his thumb in a circle. All she had on were these thin black leggings and the warmth of her skin just bled right through them. Fuck, he wanted to touch her with nothing between them. “I can’t hold onto you?”

The innocent act didn’t work, but he hadn’t honestly expected it to. “You’re not _just holding_ anything. Watch that hand, Barton.”

Which hardly seemed fair, but he could behave for now. As soon as they got back to New York, though… Clint was still figuring out how to convince her to come straight to his place to spend the night. Since she wasn’t making him move his hand it probably wasn’t going to take a whole lot of convincing, anyway.

The center console lit up and Darcy fished his phone out for him. “Just a text. Barney with a shit emoji. That’s your brother, right? The one who called the other night?”

Clint nodded, his mouth pressed into a firm line. She wanted to ask more, he knew she did. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lips even start to form the question but then she stopped. She started to put his phone back but Clint squeezed her leg to get her attention. 

If Darcy was going to honor their agreement, the least he could do was reciprocate.

“Give it here.” He held out his hand but instead of taking his phone, used his thumb to unlock it and nudged it back towards her. “Go ahead, read it to me.”

“Really?” Darcy sounded wary. “You’re okay with that?”

“One hundred percent.”

She cleared her throat and then read Barney’s message out loud. “First one says ‘I’m alive’. Then the second one just says ‘no thanks to you, asshole’.” 

Clint laughed roughly. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

His chest felt lighter, though. He’d been trying not to think of Barney laying dead in a back alley somewhere ever since the night he’d called. Now he could go back to just hating his brother from a distance instead of worrying about him every minute. For now, anyway.

Darcy was looking at him all confused and he decided to give her the explanation she wanted. 

“He owed some guys a bunch of money. Got himself really wrapped in it and it coulda gone the other way.”

“Owed them money for what?” 

When he looked over, Darcy’s eyes were widened just a little. Enough to make Clint remember how far removed he’d become from his life before.

“Gambling, most likely, but knowing Barney it could have been anything. He does this all the time, and...” Clint took a breath before continuing. “It doesn’t always turn out okay. That’s why I was so worried when he called the other night. He wanted my help and I had to tell him no for the first time in a long time.”

“Because you were dealing with my bullshit,” Darcy said with a touch of guilt.

He shook his head and squeezed her thigh reassuringly. 

“Because I was exactly where I wanted to be,” he corrected. “And I didn’t have a way to get to him, regardless.”

The car went silent except for the radio for a few beats too long.

“Anyway, that’s just Barney,” Clint said to break the awkwardness. “I hate him a hell of a lot more than I love him. Family, right?”

Darcy made a noise and he suddenly felt stupid as hell. Of course she wouldn’t know. She had her nice middle-class family with their pretty house and their normal problems. Ethan and Elijah were probably never going to call her in the middle of the night to bail them out of a gunfight with gangsters.

“Sorry,” he continued, covering his ass. “I guess that wouldn’t be right to you. You know, with your family being…”

“What, Stepford?”

Clint grimaced. “I wasn’t gonna say it like that, but yeah.”

“I hated my mom,” Darcy said. Like she was telling him that it was about to rain or he had a hole in the knee of his jeans. A basic fact, not something that made him choke with surprise. “It was the last thing I ever said to her, actually.”

“Darcy.” He couldn’t look at her for more than a few moments without taking his eyes off all the traffic, but he wanted nothing more than to soak in everything she was telling him. She’d _hated her mom?_

“Okay, I didn’t hate her. But we were not each other’s favorite person. For most of my life, honestly.”

She ducked her head and her hair was like a solid barrier between them so when Clint looked again, he couldn’t see her expression. She didn’t stop, though.

“We argued all the time. She hated that I went into political science because she thought it was a waste. She wanted me to be a doctor, no matter how much I told her I fucking hated medicine. It was like… every decision I ever made, she had to be an asshole about it, you know? The clothes I wore or the guys I dated or fuck, even the posters in my room. I would scream at her all the time to stay out of my fucking life. And I’m not supposed to tell anybody that, right? Because she’s dead. She’s my dead mom.”

Clint had no idea what to say to any of that. Absolutely no clue. All he could do was rub his hand over her leg and try not to crash into the back of a semi that was merging into his lane too soon.

He heard her breathe out a steady sigh and tried to gather his thoughts for some sort of tactful reply, but she still wasn’t done.

“I never talk about how we really treated each other because I feel like a monster.”

Darcy’s hand was so close that it took no effort at all for Clint to turn his over and slide his palm under hers. He tangled their fingers together and brought their joined hands to his mouth to brush his lips across her knuckles.

“I’ve seen plenty of monsters. They’re ugly and cruel, and you’re nothing like them.” He peeked in time to see her roll her eyes. “I’m serious, Darcy. You didn’t get along with your mom, so what? It doesn’t make you a bad person.”

“I feel like one,” she whispered so quietly that he almost didn’t catch it.

“Hey.” Clint tugged her hand to make her look at him. “You’re not. And there’s not a thing you could tell me about yourself that wouldn’t make me love you.”

Darcy stared at him even when he had to look away to change lanes. She was quiet for so long that he thought he’d really stuck his foot in it now, but then she sat up straight as a rod.

“Pull over.”

His turn for utter confusion. “Darcy?”

“Oh, my God,” she breathed out in an exasperated tone. “I love you too, you giant fucking idiot. But there was a sign for a Super 8 back there and we are not going any further until you take me to bed and prove it.”

The words settled in his brain, rolling around and combining into a tangled ball of relief and fondness and lust. Then he swerved back over before they missed the exit. Hell yeah, he could prove it.

* * *

The door to their shitty motel room hadn’t even clicked shut when Darcy’s back hit the wall and Clint covered her mouth with his.

Thank _fuck_. Her hands slid up into his hair and tangled there while he nibbled and sucked on her bottom lip, smoothing his palms over her hips. Without warning, he slid them back over her ass and down the backs of her thighs, and then he lifted her up like she weighed nothing at all and pushed her into the wall with his hips.

If Darcy had been dying with anticipation before, now she was _aching_ with it, because fuck. That was hot. Also, thank god she was a lazy bitch and decided to wear leggings for an extended car ride because the thin material was absolutely perfect for grinding into him.

Clint abandoned her mouth after pillaging it thoroughly with his tongue and instead set about sucking a mark into her skin behind her ear. Darcy moaned and wiggled against him, dragging his shirt up to rake her nails across his lower back.

“Listen,” she gasped out when he bit down on her neck. “I have like, zero problems with you fucking me into a wall, but we have so many clothes on.”

“I’m working on it,” Clint growled back, the vibrations against her skin making her shiver. “Shoes first.”

Darcy wrapped her legs around him to toe her sneakers off and followed them up with her socks. She nudged Clint’s chin up with her nose and indulged herself by licking the hollow in his throat while he leaned into her and tried to get his own shoes off.

“Fuck, Darce.” He grunted and pitched forward, his hand smacking against the wall by her head. Darcy realized with a jolt that he was holding her up with one hand up under her ass and the scant leverage of her legs wrapped around him and god, that was even hotter. 

Was strength kink a thing? Muscle kink? Whatever, if it existed, she needed to add it to the list.

Hot as it was, it wasn’t helping them get their clothes off, and Darcy needed to see him naked like, yesterday. Clint tried to kiss her again and she shook her head.

“Bed,” she said. Then, as an afterthought, “please?”

He huffed out a laugh and grabbed her ass with both hands to pull her away from the wall and take her over to the bed. Feeling victorious, Darcy used the hands-free time to whip her shirt over her head and was rewarded with a delicious, agonized groan from Clint.

He deposited her on the bed, which creaked and groaned under her weight, and shed his own shirt. That was a treat in and of itself, but then his pants followed and Darcy licked her lips at the sight. Even in unflatteringly loose boxers, his thighs were a sight to behold. In fact, she was suddenly overcome with the urge to wrap her fingers around them and make good on the fantasies she’d been having for a week.

“You gonna sit there and stare all day?” Clint smiled at her, wide and teasing, and Darcy shook her head as she shoved her leggings down and kicked them off.

“Nope.”

She scooted to the edge of the bed and then slid to the floor in the sexiest way she could manage. Which wasn’t really sexy at all, especially if she stopped to think about how dirty the econo-carpet probably was, but Clint’s eyes were all dark and intense and she was dying to get her mouth on him.

“I’ve been thinking about this since that night in the bathroom,” she said, tugging his boxers down over his hips.

“About blowing me?” Clint’s voice was strained. 

Darcy smirked and weighed his half-hard cock in her hand before circling her thumb and fingers around him. She stroked once and he jerked into her touch. “Yeah, about blowing you.”

Every single fantasy she’d had about tasting him lately melted into reality as she lowered her head and closed her mouth around the head of his dick. Clint groaned in the exact way she anticipated and gathered her hair up in his hands.

“Fuck,” Darcy heard him mutter while she worked him over with her tongue. “Christ, Darcy.”

Encouraged, she shifted to settle in on her knees and wrapped her hands around the back of his thighs to pull him in while she bobbed her head. It took him no time at all to harden completely in her mouth and soon she had him panting, cursing, and twisting his fingers in her hair.

She sealed her lips around him and rolled her tongue around the sensitive tip. Clint hissed and pulled on her hair, sending heat right through her veins to gather in her suddenly aching clit. She tried to take him in deep again, nails digging into the meat of his thighs, but he kept pulling on her hair until she got the message and lifted up to look at him.

“Not that I’m complaining about _any_ of that,” Clint said breathlessly. “But I want you on the bed.”

Abandoning his cock felt like a crime, but Darcy could hardly argue with the heated look he was giving her. She settled on the bed and braced herself on her elbows and Clint followed her up to climb on top of her and claim her mouth with a biting kiss. She let it go on for what felt like forever until the tension that wound like a knot between her thighs was too much and she started to wiggle.

“Clint,” she whined when he kissed over her jaw. His beard was rubbing all over her neck but the scratch didn’t hurt. It was just making everything worse. “Stop teasing.”

He laughed into her ear, low and husky. Bastard. “Not teasing. Just workin’ you up.”

“I’m plenty worked up.” 

Darcy wrapped her legs around him, rolling her hips up for some kind of friction. It put his erection right against the front of her panties but Clint was quick to lift up and put some distance between them.

She was going to scream. And not the good kind, either.

“Hold on, baby.” He smirked down at her, kneeling between her spread thighs. “You’re not the only one who’s been thinking about this for a while.”

Darcy didn’t have a witty retort for that because he worked her bra off in record time and then his mouth closed around one of her nipples and there was nothing else to say but his name. Repeatedly. Somewhere in the squirming she was doing and Clint’s hand moving over her body, Darcy’s panties were discarded too. Then finally, _finally_ he was kissing down her stomach towards where she was dying for him to go.

There was something strange about the familiar sight of him sliding between her legs combined with the not-so-familiar tickle of his beard on her most sensitive skin. Now that she thought about it, Clint had always been clean-shaven before. Maybe a hint of stubble, but nothing like the hair rubbing up and down the inside of her right thigh. 

It was different, but a good different. The kind that had her petting his hair and arching into his face. Then his tongue dipped into her folds and fuck, that was definitely familiar.

Better than her fantasies, was all Darcy could think while Clint curled his hands around her thighs to pull them farther apart. He didn’t even try for slow, just circled her clit with his tongue and then sucked it between his lips until she arched her back and begged for more without a second thought.

He gave it to her, too. Pressed two of his fingers into her and angled them up in that fan-fucking-tastic way to stroke her walls the way she could never manage on her own. In what felt like no time at all, the familiar wave of heat crept up from her toes and forced a stuttered cry out of her lips while she shuddered and her pussy squeezed his fingers.

“Up, up,” she urged once her body stilled and he stopped licking her clit. “Come here.”

Clint didn’t respond, too busy pulling his fingers out of her and replacing them with his tongue. The pressure wasn’t the same but she was still sensitive, so Darcy moaned and pulled sharply on his hair. 

“You’re killing me. Get up here and fuck me already.”

That got his attention. He grinned up at her with his lips wet and his beard coated with her juices. Which should have been gross, but mostly Darcy just wanted to kiss him and feel that wetness all over her face. Thankfully, Clint acquiesced to her demand and crawled back up the bed so she could grab his head and pull him down for a filthy kiss.

He tasted like her and it was really, ridiculously hot. By the time they broke apart she was squirming again and judging by his cock twitching against her hip bone, he was just as impatient as she was.

“Fuck, we didn’t—”

“My bag,” she murmured, nipping his bottom lip. “I grabbed some at the gas station.”

Not that she’d been anticipating a stop like this, but man, was she ever glad she’d had some foresight.

Clint abandoned her long enough to grab a condom from her backpack and roll it on. Then, all teasing pretense long gone, he slotted himself between her thighs and pushed into her with one smooth thrust.

 _Fuck_ , yes. Darcy wrapped her arms around him and dug her heels into the backs of his legs with a loud moan. _This_ was what she’d been missing. Everything she’d been craving every time she’d huddled under the covers the past two weeks to frantically rub herself off like a teenager discovering orgasms for the first time. 

She expected him to start slow for some kind of buildup, but Clint surprised her by slamming into her hard. Again and again, his forearms pressed into the bed on either side of her and his face buried in her neck. Well, fast and hard was fine by her. Darcy turned her head and he met her halfway, kissing her sloppily.

This was familiar, too. Clint panting into her mouth while he fucked her into the mattress, leaving her helpless to do much except drag her nails down his back and try to half-heartedly meet his movements without screwing up the tempo.

Only it was different because he loved her, and like in all her fantasies before, the knowledge threw all of Darcy’s senses into overdrive. He was _everywhere_ suddenly. His cock filled her perfectly. His teeth set into her shoulder and then soothed the bite with a swipe of his tongue. His skin was hot and slick under her fingers, scrabbling for something to hold onto the faster that he moved.

“Roll over,” Darcy gasped, and he did.

“Too much?” he asked as she settled herself comfortably on top of him. His hands cupped her breasts firmly in his big hands, his thumbs flicking over her nipples and making them harden. 

“Just wanted to see you like this,” she said honestly.

The lust in his eyes gave way to something softer. “I love you.”

It wasn’t fair, the way it made her pussy spasm and her chest clench with emotion at the same time. Emotional intimacy kink probably needed to go on the list too.

Darcy grabbed his hands from her tits and laced their fingers together, using the grip as leverage as she lifted herself up and sank back down on his cock. She rolled her hips a little on the way down and Clint grunted, making her smile. 

“I know,” she said.

“Did you just—” He cut off with another groan when she repeated the motion. “—Han Solo me in the middle of sex?”

“Uh-huh,” she laughed breathlessly, squeezing his hands.

He laughed with her and she almost forgot about how goddamn close she was until Clint suddenly dropped her hands to grab her hips and bring her down hard against him. 

“Fuck!” They were so going to get booted from this motel if she got any louder, but Darcy was just about past the point of caring. “Do that again.”

Clint took over from there and she gave up any notions of riding him, instead letting him fuck up into her from below while she slid a hand down her body to find her clit. Watching _him_ watch _her_ touch herself was enough to make her shatter again and she came for a second time with her legs shaking and Clint’s name spilling out of her like a prayer.

His hands tightened on her hips and his thrusts turned into more of a frantic grinding. Darcy was still dealing with aftershocks when he stiffened and followed her over the edge with a quiet groan. 

All she wanted was to go boneless and flop on top of him like a graceless fish, but. Condom. Cleanup. Things that required effort and moving and ugh. One more lingering kiss and then she forced herself into it, heading to the bathroom on shaky legs.

When she got back, Clint had already cleaned himself up and laid on the bed with an arm draped over his eyes. Darcy curled up next to him, pillowing her head on his shoulder.

“We don’t have anything pressing to get back to, right?” He moved his arm to peek at her. 

Darcy frowned. “No? I asked for an extra day to settle, so I won’t meet Jane at the labs until Thursday.”

“Good, good,” Clint said. “Cause we’re not leaving ‘til morning. Late morning.”

She laughed. “You need some sleep after all that?”

He dropped his arm completely and leaned in to kiss her, spreading warmth from her head to her toes. “Tiny cat nap. Then we’re back at it. I’ve got a few more rounds in me.”

Darcy hummed pleasantly and tangled her legs with his. “I think I can handle that.”

She pressed her hand over his chest to feel his heart beating under her palm. Steady and sure, synced with the way hers sounded in her own ears.

Finally, they were on the same page.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading! Your comments have fueled me in the best way and I hope you feel inclined to leave another. <3


	16. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> STOP. Chapter 15 and this epilogue were posted simultaneously, so if you haven't read chapter 15 yet, back up and do that first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sing their praises for every chapter, but I have to do it one more time.
> 
> Dresupi, the sweet angel who helped me birth this fic from a random oneshot idea based on a country song that didn't even make it onto the fic playlist... thank you. Your constant encouragement and yelling into my discord dms filled my creative cup in ways you can't even imagine. I love you!!
> 
> Aaaand then there's BoudicaMuse, who has been there every single fucking step of the way with me on this thing. I credit BWGL for our friendship, which I have no clue what I'd do without now, so... yay! You're stuck with me now, bitch. I'll never be able to thank you enough for all of your help, advice, constant syruping, and soooo many Charlie Hunnam pictures when I lost motivation. You're the realest. Love youuu.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy the ending!

More of the team had showed up than Darcy anticipated. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it did make her a little frantic while she finished setting out snacks and making sure everyone had a place to sit.

It was just popcorn left and then she could join everyone on the couches for the movie. Well, almost everyone. 

Clint was running a little late because of an appointment but he’d promised he would be there, especially when she told him that she’d picked The Greatest Showman for their first big movie night since returning from vacation. She thought it was weird because it was a musical and didn’t seem like his style at all, but then it clicked that he was _really_ looking forward to making fun of a circus movie. 

“Want some help?” Jane smiled at her and grabbed the last bag of popcorn from the microwave when it beeped. 

Darcy gave her a grateful look, climbing down from the counter with a huge bowl clutched in her hands. Damn Tony for hiding all the big stuff on shelves way too high for anyone but Thor to reach. At least when Clint pulled that shit at his place, she had her trusty stepladder to help instead of scaling the cabinets like Indiana Jones.

“Here, throw it in here. We’ll just have to pass it around.”

Jane started emptying bags of popcorn into the bowl and Darcy joined her to speed the process up, eyeing the sly smile on her friend’s lips.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jane said, her smile widening. “I just keep wondering when exactly is a good time to give you grief about Clint.”

“How about never?” Darcy threw a piece of popcorn at her and scowled when she caught it in her mouth.

“I promise I’m not going to be mean.” Jane paused. “Okay, not _too_ mean.”

The next bag of popcorn got ripped open with a little more force. “I know what you’re going to say. But we talked. A lot. And I’m happy.”

So, so happy. It was probably a weird honeymoon period since they’d only been back in New York for three weeks, but getting laid on the regular was doing great things for Darcy’s mood. She couldn’t stay over at Clint’s nearly as often as she liked because the travel time was a bitch, but it was basically every weekend and any nights she was too lazy to go back to the Tower in-between. She got Lucky snuggles and Dog Cops on the couch and plenty of time with Clint’s arms around her in one way or another.

“I know you are,” Jane conceded. “Which is the only reason I haven’t made good on my nut smoothie threat. But he’s on thin ice, you hear me?”

Darcy laughed and tossed the empty popcorn bags away, taking the bowl from Jane in case she got any bright ideas about cracking Clint over the head with it when he showed up. 

“I hear you. Come on before Thor tries to turn the movie on himself and breaks the Blu-Ray player again.”

She claimed her favorite big, comfy armchair in the corner and looked around the room with a feeling of satisfaction. Jane settled onto one of the couches next to Thor, who was in an animated conversation with a visibly bouncing Pietro. The rest of the furniture and the floor was crowded with people, literal superheroes and a few of the lab techs that Jane had invited. Not a bad crowd for a silly Pop Culture Night.

“Are you going to share any of that?” Natasha said, tapping Darcy’s leg from the floor by her chair. “Because I know you’re not going to eat it all.”

“No, she’s gonna share it with me.” Clint called from the doorway. He crossed the room in no time and Darcy stood to let him sit in the chair so she could perch herself on his lap. “Buzz off and get your own.”

“She can’t,” Darcy explained, grabbing a big handful to hold in her shirt and passing the bowl down to Natasha, who smirked victoriously. “I popped the last four bags. Got you some pretzels, though.”

Clint smiled and tightened his arm around her waist. “Knew I liked you for a reason.” 

He licked a piece of popcorn from her outstretched hand, drawing it into his mouth like a lizard while Darcy regarded him carefully. He looked happy but there was a tightness at the corners of his eyes that hadn’t been there when he stopped by to have lunch with her in the lab this afternoon. 

Nuzzling her face into his neck, she planted a gentle kiss under his ear before murmuring quietly against his skin. “Rough session?”

His arm squeezed her again and she knew she’d hit the mark. One of the first things Clint had done when they’d gotten home was schedule weekly therapy sessions with someone that Barnes recommended to him. The first two appointments had gone off without a hitch but Darcy could only guess that they were starting to get into some touchy subjects.

“Yeah,” he muttered back. “S’alright, though. Just wanna watch the movie with you.”

The urge to ask, the desperate craving to help soothe whatever was bothering him, reared up again. Darcy shifted to a better angle for cuddling and smoothed her hand down his arm until she could take his hand. Clint’s other hand lifted and she felt his fingers run through her hair.

Grounding himself, she remembered. This was soothing for him. And if it was soothing for him, it was enough for her.

“Hey, we gonna start the movie or what?” Sam’s voice sounded from behind them. Then pretzels rained down on Darcy’s head and lap and she gasped, twisting around to glare at him.

“Did you steal the bag of pretzels that I specifically labeled ‘Do Not Touch’? Those were for Clint!”

“Maybe,” he shot back. “What are you gonna do about it?”

Darcy started to get to her feet but Clint laughed and pulled her back, holding her to his chest. 

“It’s alright, Darce,” he chuckled warmly into her hair. “I got everything I need right here.”

What a fucking cheeseball. She rolled her eyes but settled back against him anyway while Jane started the movie and Wanda switched the lights off. The tittering from the group settled into a soft silence when Hugh Jackman started singing and pretty soon, Darcy forgot to be annoyed altogether.

A lot of it was the same, really. Thor still laughed in that booming way when anything he found strange happened on the screen. Wanda and Barnes still tried and failed to be discreet about making out in the corner and Pietro was even less discreet about calling them out. Even Clint was the same, still warm and solid and snarky as ever.

But it wasn’t the same. Darcy was determined to do things differently now. She wanted to be better and help the man she loved to be better, too. And together, she was pretty sure they could manage it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit, I wrote a novel? Basically? I'm so sad that it's over but man, the journey was super fun. Thank you guys for coming along with me on this little trip of domesticity and love with two of my favorite fictional characters. I'm not even close to done with Clint and Darcy, though, so keep an eye out. Until then, you can follow me on [tumblr](http://treaddelicately.tumblr.com) to see what I'm up to, or if you just want gratuitous gif spams of Charlie Hunnam. Whatever. <3
> 
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